SeaBed

Story

I saw a ghost in the living room. But as I was already used to the phenomenon, I did not let it interfere with the preparation of my evening meal. The ghost ate my fried egg and commended its taste. As I listened to her talk, my memories drifted back to the days we were still together. Back when we were in school, she asked me what was necessary for the two of us to be together. A small workplace that we could make a living from without relying on anyone. A silent apartment where we would have the freedom to do what our hearts desired. I told her that. In the late eighties – during the econom...