“At times you may see us, we untethered dead…”
My realtor is not himself today.
“We de-earthed ghosts,” he drones, eyes glazed, voice deadened. “Who, in our slumberless boredom, have little to do but ramble about and see what you living are up to.”
“Frank..?” I ask. “Everything’s signed, right? Can I just… have the keys?”
Frank’s arms flail toward the walls.
“Excuse a moved object here or there! Ignore any gentle brushing of your hair!”
I grab his stiffened shoulders. “Frank!”
“And do your best to remember, the only intruder here…”
His waxy eyes lock onto mine.
“...is you.”
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