Long-Lost Roommate

old roomBy Jenna Tramonti

My dad always said New England had a history to it. I put my suitcase down in the tiny apartment doorway and decided that was the case. The wooden floor creaked as I moved. Small square windows gazed out to Boston below. I smiled.

The landlady seemed to materialize behind me, gesturing in welcome.

“… And don’t worry about Emily,” she said after, making for the door.

“Who?” I asked.

“Oh, she died here in 1894. She’s very smart. You might learn from her.”

Then I was alone. A box near the kitchen moved on its own, slightly to the left.


4 thoughts on “Long-Lost Roommate

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s