Spectral Romance
There he is again—bald head, big nose, that same wistful photo she thought she’d seen the last of. She’s only checking the website for updates, but somehow he sneaks in like a pop-up ad with feelings. His profile still insists he misses his late wife dearly… but also claims she’d want him to find “the right woman to live with.”
She almost believed it.
Romantic? Maybe. Creepy? Absolutely. That line lingers like leftover perfume in an elevator. Sweet. Odd. Slightly nauseating.
She snorts. “Sure,” she mutters to her tea. “His ghost wife’s playing matchmaker now. What’s next—spectral speed-dating?”
morning sunlight—
his nose still shines
through the screen
