He stood before the wooden door.
Memories flooded his head as he gazed at the peeling paint, the brown peeping through the grey. Years had passed, decades even.
And yet, he could swear that it looked exactly the same as it did when he was a child.
Looking down at his hand, he raised it to knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, he curled his fingers, formed a knuckle and rapped on the wood.
And he waited.
Slowly, the heavy door swung open and a little girl peeped out, looking from side to side.
“Maa, there’s nobody here,” she called out to someone behind her.
“Must have been the wind, Maria. Come back inside.”
She didn’t see him, but he saw her.
Heaving a deep sigh, he watched as the wind whistled through the air, falling on the girl’s ears. She perked up to listen and then shrugged and went back inside.
He stood for a few more seconds and then turned and glided away. He’d try again tomorrow.
The life of a ghost wasn’t easy.
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Daily writing- Day 12- 2018