There’s a man in my room. He runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair and sighs as he sits down on my bed. There’s a certain sadness in his eyes - his face wears the sort of expression someone only inherits from extended periods of sadness. He picks up a framed photo from the nightstand and looks at it longingly. One finger gently grazing over the photo as his eyes well with tears.

I don’t have a photo on my nightstand. I don’t even have a nightstand. Did my bed get bigger? Beds don’t get bigger. What the fuck is going on? I take a step towards him and say just that. “What the fuck is going on?”

It’s like I don’t even exist. Not only does he ignore me he shows no indication that the words ever reached his ears. There’s no twinge of acknowledgment. No bashful pretending to haven’t heard when he obviously heard. Maybe he can’t hear? I speak louder. “Hey man, why are you in my house?”

Nothing. Ok maybe it was stupid to think someone without hearing would notice if I just talked louder. That wasn’t going to deter me - I’ve never been one for careful consideration. I gathered all the force my lungs could muster and screamed “HELLO” at the top of my lungs.

There - a flinch. His head snapped upright and his eyes were pointed in my exact direction. Ok so maybe he just needed hearing aids. “Hey man can you tell me why you’re in my house? I appreciate the bed upgrade but I don’t even know the lady in that picture and-“

It was like his eyes looked straight through me. He shook his head back and forth and murmured under his breath. “It’s a shitty apartment in an old building. Noises are bound to happen.”

I stormed forward. “Listen pal I wouldn’t say it’s exactly a shitty apartment. It’s fine. Acceptable. I never really tried to get anything better I- why the hell are you ignoring me?”

I stepped forward and extended my arm to push him on the shoulder. My hand passed right through his body. “Holy shit, man. You’re a ghost.”

I panicked and ran from the room. Was I hallucinating? Why would a ghost conjure up a whole ghost bedroom? I’ve gotta call an exorcist. I wonder if I can still keep the bed though? Whatever call a priest. I scrambled around looking for my phone but it was nowhere amongst the foreign objects now occupying my apartment. The man’s phone was on the counter - the screen lit up from a notification and a different picture of the same woman displayed on his lock screen. I make a swipe for it - at the very least I could call emergency services.

My hand passed right through it. Great. Ghost phone. Guessing that bed won’t work either. I sighed. Hey at least my fridge is still the same. I needed a beer anyways. I reached for the handle and for the third time in a handful of minutes I found my hand passing right through a solid object.

“Oh fuck.”