A Kind of Haunting
100 words for Friday Fictioneers
Photoprompt ©Roger Bultot
Where will you be, my phantom man, my memory? Will you lean on the bar, your fingerprints already on a glass? Will you be on the balcony? The stair? Will you walk through the gracious hall or take the chapel path to evensong? Will you be comforting another troubled soul in the car park, by the station? Or in the car park anywhere? Will I see, as in my dreams, the red-pink of your coat, the one that lost a single, treasured thread?
I harden my heart for what’s to come. I miss you very much. I see you everywhere.