My Ghost

The ghost in my house was really having fun last night. A whole pile of books in my spare room suddenly fell with a tremendous thud in the middle of the night, waking me from a deep sleep. And when I ignored that--after all, what could I do?--a pair of jeans drying over my door on a clothes hanger, which had been there safely all day, suddenly dropped to the floor. Two can play at that game, I said, and kicked out at a pile of books on a chair at the bottom of my bed, making them ricochet from the wall before scattering across the carpet noisily. It's just faintly possible I have lived alone too long.