Ghost.

“When’s daddy coming home?” Five-year old Gen asked her mother.

“You know he’s not coming home.” She sighed. Tak had been dead for a year now.

“Yes he will.” Gen insisted, her arms crossed defiantly. Laura turned, and placed both hands on the counter .

“No, Gen! He won’t! He’s dead!” She shouted, tears flowing down her face. She immediately regretted it after seeing Gen run crying down the hallway. Laura bowed her head, and began biting her lip.

“Oh, Tak. Why did you ever leave me?” She begged.

A few hours later, Gen came streaming down the hallway and into the kitchen. Laura glanced at the clock. Now was about the time that Tak normally came home. She closed her eyes, thinking of the way he would swing the door open, yelling, “Honey! I’m home!” while holding his arms out for Gen. Then he would walk into the kitchen where Laura would be cooking dinner. He‘d grab her, kiss her softly on the neck and say, ‘Hey, hey, good-lookin’, watcha’ got cookin’?” Gen pulled a chair in front of the window, climbed on top of it, and moved the curtains away. “Daddy’s home!” She yelled, jumping down and running towards the front door with her arms outstretched. Laura stood with her eyes closed, listening to Gen’s faint laughter.

Laura suddenly drew in a sharp breath, and placed a shaky hand on the nape of her neck where she had felt a slight breath. Opening her eyes, she saw Gen grinning in the doorway. “Told ya’ he‘d come home!” She shouted and ran off.

Laura glanced around quickly, and seeing nothing, began to start cooking dinner. But not after a certain song floated through her head:

         “Hey, hey, good-lookin‘! Watcha’ got cookin’? How’s about cookin’ somethin’ up with me?”


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