Ghost Story

My mind camera-like, slow-motion capture – every frame a haunting. I shouldn’t have sustained eye-contact.

Suffocation is surprisingly silent. Sarah’s smile melted as her esophagus boiled. Our lungs labored for breath but billowed out blood and mucus.

Entropy flooded our apartment. Every item instantly aged eleven years. Paper yellowed and wilted. Food fouled. Plastics became brown and brittle. Textiles suddenly weathered and worn and spent.

Vomit makes everything worse. Puke floods your face when the frontlines find a way into your neighborhood. You never imagined the phantom could enter your home.

When true calamity arrives, they send the suits before the uniforms. First, the hazmat suits, then the business suits. Last, the blue and red and yellow uniforms.

I begged them to keep Sarah on the ventilator for a little longer.

Never trust a fart.