Prompt: Tell Them I’m Not Here

Short, very short

“More knocking will not make me answer the door any faster,” Patty yelled and waddled to the door. Sure enough, no one stood outside on the steps. She couldn’t see anyone running away over the barren fields. Maybe they ran around the house, but she would have seen them out the windows, unless they crouched really low.

Patty paused with her hand on the thick wooden white door, smelled the fresh rose-scented air, and said, “Ghost Grandma Sarah, I’m looking. Dating is different these days.” She sighed, pushed a leaf off the steps with her slippered right foot, and returned to her leather chair and laptop.

On her laptop, a video played in a pop-up screen over a blog post that she needed to finish editing for the English version of the Hong Kong News. AI could only translate so much after all. Three untouched, unused, dating site tabs remained open in the background.

The knock returned, and again she ignored it until it interfered with the movie. With a sigh, she shut the laptop cover and waddled to the door. Her left foot hurt from the mousetrap she stepped on yesterday. Once again, she glanced at her cat, curled up on the couch, useless at catching mice. She secretly suspected that it invited the mice in as friends.

Outside stood her mother, near transparent, wearing the dress Patty picked out specifically for the funeral. Her mother scowled, eyes stern and upset. Behind her, Grandma Sarah stood with her flappy arms folded over her summer housecoat. While the wind blew east to west, Grandma Sarah’s wispy hair swirled around in the opposite direction. On her right, Grandpa Joe had one hand on Grandma’s shoulder.

“Mom, tell them I’m not here,” Patty said and shut the door.