Brian’s morning routine of coffee and cornflakes just got weird.
“A word, please?” asked the phantom suddenly floating in the middle of his kitchen.
A prank? A hoax? It had to be. Ghosts aren’t real.
He watched wide-eyed as the apparition drifted over to the sink.
“Terribly unpleasant,” the ghost moaned, gesturing to the stacks of unwashed dishes from weeks ago.
Brian could scream, but who would hear? It was only him in this big old house. Plus, the ghost had been exceedingly polite and made a valid point.
“We’re residents here too, you know…” the spirit scolded.
Wait… we?
The Weekday One Hundred 