Haunted Emmy and Coffee

Yesterday at work, a girl came in to the library where I work, and asked if I could recommend a book on ghosts and spirits. Oh, if I could have leant to her my brain. You don't need a book, honey. Just spend a few hours in my shoes.

I pointed her in the right direction. She came back with Ghosts: True Encounters with the World Beyond by Hans Holzer, and I began to check the book out for her. That's when I did something completely impulsive. I asked her out for coffee. Normally, I wouldn't have done such a thing as I do not mix with regular people. But there was something about her that drew me in and shut off my logic.

She blushed from behind her glasses. "Sure," she said to my surprise. We exchanged names (hers was Emmy) and phone numbers, and decided to meet up the next morning--this morning.

Oddly enough, I wasn't nervous. I don't know if it was because she checked out a book about ghosts, or if fate had brought this girl to me. Nevertheless, I felt good about it as I sat at a table at the Little Coffee House.

She came in. She paced looking timid of the crowd, barely glancing around to find me. She caught my eyes, came over, and sat across from me. She said, “A little crowded this morning, huh?”

I agreed.

We conversed shyly—she was the shyer one. In our conversation I asked her why she got a book about ghosts. She said, “I’d rather not say. You’d laugh.”

“Try me,” I responded.

She looked around like she didn’t want anyone to listen in, and said, “Okay, I know this sounds stupid. I think I have a ghost in my house, and I need to figure out how to get rid of it.”

I smiled. It was nothing new to me. Dead people are always bugging the shit out of me.

She thought I was laughing at her, and she told me that she knew I would laugh. I assured her that I believed her, and that she just might have a spirit haunting her house. I didn’t tell her about my ability yet, but I wanted to. I wanted her to invite me over so I could try to convince the spirit to leave, and maybe have some more coffee with more privacy. But I wasn’t ready to share that part about me yet. I didn’t want to run her off.

We finished our coffee. She had to get to work. She was barely able to say, “You want to do something again sometime?”

Of course I agreed. I leaned over and kissed her on her cheek. It startled her—hell, it startled me. But she smiled and said, “Until next time, then.”

She gets off of work at seven. I think I’ll give her a call then, and talk about that ghost of hers.

(photo by hotblack)