Chapter 3: Lemon Cleaner and Old Smoke

Ten minutes later, I finally calmed down a little, my breath hitching as I leaned against the wall. I fished a cigarette out of my purse, hands shaking so bad I nearly dropped the lighter. I didn’t even remember why I still had cigarettes—maybe left over from the last time my nerves got wrecked.

The rain was still rattling against the window AC unit, and the whole place smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and old smoke. "What’s going on? Why can I see you?" I asked, voice hoarse.

Jason shrank into the corner, looking even more startled than me. "I’d like to know that too."

The lighter clicked over and over. The cigarette, soaked from the rain, wouldn’t light. Jason floated over, tried to grab it—forgetting he couldn’t touch anything. His hand passed right through the cigarette.

He froze for a second, then, trying to cover his embarrassment, leaned in and sniffed at me. "Drinking and smoking? Next thing I know, you’ll be joining a biker gang."

He wrinkled his nose, like he could actually smell the whiskey and Marlboro on my skin. It was so normal, I almost forgot he was dead.

We went to the same middle and high school. You could call us childhood friends. He was three months older and always liked to lecture me. But I was never afraid of him. Still not, even now.

"It’s been too long. I forgot."

He widened his eyes. "You can forget that too?"

"Whatever. If you forgot, you forgot. Not important."

Yeah. Not important.

I tossed the cigarette and walked around him, peeled off my wet trench coat and threw it on the hardwood floor. The wet fabric clung to my skin, heavy as regret. My apartment still had that faint lemon cleaning spray smell, mixed with damp rain and something bittersweet I couldn't name. The sight of the coat puddling on the floor felt weirdly final.

He floated after me, sticking close. "Hey, aren’t you freaked out seeing me? Don’t you want to ask..."

His voice stopped abruptly. Because he saw me, after taking off my coat, start unbuttoning my dress. The buttons were undone all the way to my chest. He vanished through the wall in a flash.

A moment later, a roar came from the closed home office. "Jeez! Your fiancé cheats, but you can’t take it out on me like some creep! I’m still a pure guy, never even dated—don’t try to force yourself on me! Besides, I’m already dead. I can’t do anything for you."

The way his voice echoed off the walls, you’d think he was still just a dumb kid in the next room, not a ghost haunting my old, too-quiet apartment.

The apartment felt even bigger, echoing with the ghost of his embarrassment.