I've Been Waiting

Her husband had been dead for a year. That night, she woke to hear

his voice cutting through the darkness. Move over honey, you're in my spot. The mattress dipped

beside her, springs groaning under invisible weight. She couldn't breathe.

Couldn't scream. The sheets rustled as something settled into the bed. She felt the cold

radiate from where he should be, seeping through the blankets into her skin.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the lamp. The voice came again, closer to her ear

now. You never changed the sheets. I've been waiting. The light clicked

on. Nothing there. But the depression in the mattress remained,