Last Moments

I found my boyfriend in the kitchen, bags packed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do this any more.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Every time I… go in the bathroom, it’s like I’m seeing you there. Laying down. With your eyes…”

He stops.

I know what he means. How he found me, three years ago, after the electric shock. I try to touch him, and he shrinks away.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I just can’t.”

And he leaves. I try to go after him, but I’m stuck inside the house I haunt. The door shuts, and I’ve never felt so dead.