The Distant Summer
Elias, the radio crackled, a voice distorted by the 0300 static that had been bleeding through the kitchen walls for three nights. I turned off the dial, the plastic knob clicking with a sound like a small bone breaking, and looked at the window. The glass was a black mirror, reflecting the kitchen’s bare bulb and the two chairs, one for me and one for the ghost that had been sitting there for...
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