Father’s office. The only room Robert rarely entered. Just an hour every Sunday to pay bills.
He detested the practice. Father was the accountant, not him. But the lights had to stay on and who else would do it? He lived alone in this old Victorian.
The desk would always end up a mess too. Papers here, checkbooks there, smeared ink everywhere. Yet by the next morning, it was back in pristine condition.
The ghost of his long departed dad? Unnerving… impossible…
But Robert learned to embrace the paranormal. And he rather enjoyed having the old man still hanging around.
The Weekday One Hundred 