Divorced, Dead, and Still His Obsession
Chapter 8: Haunting the Living
I watch through the window as Derek’s car drives away, then finally dare to float outside the door.
His car—a sleek black Mercedes—pulls out of the lot, tires squealing a little on the icy pavement. I almost expect him to look back, but of course, he doesn’t.
He’s brought over the clothes and makeup I left at his place.
It’s not much—everything fits in a single cardboard box.
The box is battered, a shipping label still half-attached. He didn’t even bother to tidy up, just stuffed it all in.
I squat and look—having my junk thrown at the door is pretty humiliating if the neighbors see.
Mrs. Chen from 4B peeks through her blinds. I half expect her to gossip in the lobby later about the "messy girl in 5A."
I try to pick up the box, but my hand passes right through it.
Damn Derek.
Tonight, I’ve decided to go stand by his bed and scare him.
Maybe I’ll finally get the last word—ghost style.
