Ghost 2

It wasn’t just the public places. Oh no, it was many of the private ones as well. Sometimes at night, brushing his teeth in the upstairs bathroom? He would look out, down into his neigjbours, well manicured back lawn, some trees and flowers , a big round cobblestone patio, in the middle of the patio a round table with four chairs. He would sit there. Not ever looking up. Mostly just sitting, left leg crossed over right, the dull orange glue from the cigarette, brightening and fading in the dark as he sucked the nicotine into his system that no longer pumped blood, that no longer breathed sir. Every once in a while he would brush away a fly or bug from his face full of dead nerves. Sometimes when he would walk the dog at night, he would see him, from the corner of his eye, staring at him from the front window of one apartment or another. Only to disappear, when he would glance up at the window, unsure what would draw his gaze there, in able to define the magnitude of those directions that were delivered so swiftly and so pointedly, racing to the surface of his self consciousness, announcing themselves with a scream.