“What the hell are you doing here!?” I demanded, pushing myself up to my knees as I looked up at her. “Why aren't you wearing a shirt?”

“I was trying to relax. I never slept with clothes on before. Like, are you really going to complain about having a mostly naked girl in your bed?”

“N-no! I mean, yeah! Kind of!” I stumbled over my words quickly. “What are you doing here!?”

“The thought of you, like, going back to your lonely apartment and not talking to anyone made me really sad. So, I decided that you're not allowed to do that!” She said, a smile spreading wide across her face during the last sentence.

“No, no, no no no no no no,” I muttered quickly, jumping to my feet, racking my brain for any solution. Like I said, you cannot just exorcise ghosts. Some of the more dedicated ghosts can travel basically wherever they want. They usually have to return to the place that they are attached to eventually, but ghosts, like anyone really, can become attached to new people, places, and things. I think about it like setting a new spawn point in a video game. They set up a new place that is their default. And if that place is a person, they will have a hard time not being around that person. Or even people.

At some point I had started pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a way to get her to go back home. But everything seemed pretty implausible. Ghosts can teleport if they want to but they have to want to. And I do not know if they could teleport fifteen hundred miles. Lona reached out and grabbed my hand and held it. I looked at her and there was some worry straining her face. I worked my jaw for a moment and then closed my eyes. “L-Lona.”

“Yeah?” She asked softly.

“You can't stay here. Y-you should go back home.”

“No,” she responded simply. There was not any room for arguing in her tone. But that was not going to stop me.

“You don't belong here.” I began, trying to form an argument. “I-I don't want you here.”

“Maybe,” she started. “Maybe not. Maybe you genuinely believe that you're better off alone. Maybe you think that you can live like this.”

She gestured around to the room. It had been a while since I had anyone over. Especially a woman. Especially a naked woman. Her pseudo-period dress flickered over her body for a moment then disappeared. She stood up and picked up one of the little figurines I had started collecting some time back. It was of an anime girl whose name I did not know, of a show I did not watch, but I thought it was cute. She sat it back down and looked at me. “But you need people around you. So I'm totally here to stay.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose, still trying to think of a way out of this situation. I sat down on the bed and stared at her. I was not coming up with anything. After a minute or two, I realized I was staring directly at her boobs. Because I am an idiot. “C-could you please put some clothes on?”

“Tired of staring already? Like, I could give you another couple of minutes.” She said, shamelessly. She even gave a little wiggle. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

The next few days were a little weird. I was not used to having another person around. Thankfully she wore clothes whenever I was around. Not always enough clothes. The next morning and every morning thereafter, I woke up with her in my arms and her in a too-small tank top and panties. Did you know that ghosts can have morning breath? Because I sure as fuck did not. Fortunately, she did not need to use the one bathroom in the place and never cooked. Although, one of the times I was showering to get ready for work, she did peek her head through the wall to ask me a question, which caused me to jump, fall out of the tub, taking the shower curtain pole with me. Water sprayed everywhere and I was late to work. She thought it was hilarious.

She did make messes occasionally. She found some old puzzles that were gifted to me because people did not know what to get me when the office did Secret Santa. I had never opened them. One of my friends got in on the game and had given me an anime porn puzzle as a joke. She chose that one. Because of course she did. Still, it was kind of nice to have someone around. When I came home from work, she would be laying somewhere, my laptop open, watching videos. Occasionally, she'd practice soliloquy, monologues, and even dialogues she found online. We would sit together and watch movies, I would cook something and she would watch. She always looked really sad when she thought I was not looking. When I was looking, she would smile brightly. She was pretty upset to find out that I did not like Seinfeld or Friends, but when I showed her all of the shows she had missed over the last twenty years she became immersed. She told me the weirdest thing about new media was that there were no commercials and I explained to her that I paid for a lack of advertisements.

“I totally would've killed for something like that when I was alive!” She exclaimed.

“It is pretty standard these days. But there are also more ads than ever. So, having a way of circumventing them with certain products is in a way its own form of advertising.” I said as I was cleaning up the dishes.

The people at work seemed to notice a difference almost immediately. After less than a week of living with someone . . . Uh . . . The phrase “living with someone” seems to be a little insensitive on my part, considering she is dead. But I guess I am living, so it is accurate . . . Anyway, within the week of her moving in, one of my coworkers, Victor, came to me and said, “John, you're looking good. Good vacation?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” I responded. I do not talk to a lot of people. Especially not people like Victor. He was tall and handsome. He had well-styled hair and steel-gray eyes and war his suit tailored. I think he was in sales. He had that kind of presence. Just someone who seemed interested in whatever you had to say and could take you seriously. The perfect kind of guy to talk you into something you did not need or want.

“Did anything interesting happen? Meet anyone special?” He asked. I stumbled over my words for a moment, unable to come up with a coherent answer. “Oh my God, you actually did! What are they like?”

“Uh . . . Well, she's really nice. A little aggressive, though.”

“Oh? What's her name? Is she local?”

“Oh, well, she . . . just moved here,” I muttered, my eyes sinking to my feet. How could I possibly explain this situation? Oh, I just met a ghost and she kind of is stalking me but we like the same movies, so I guess it's okay. Fucking ridiculous. I chided myself.

“We should double date! Sara would just love to have another gal pal to hang out with. We can grab a beer and some food and meet up! How's that sound?” I did not really know Victor. I know that he is nice to pretty much everyone.

“Uh, well . . . I don't reall-” I started to say.

“Alright. It's a date. I'll talk to my girl and we will find a time and I'll get back to you.”

“Bu-”

“Talk to you later, man.”

I would just have to back out of it. I cannot bring a ghost to a double date. She does not have a real body. I am the only person I have ever met that can actually talk to ghosts. I found Victor a little bit later and waited. He was holding a conversation with five people. I know that talking to people is not an Olympic sport, but the way he managed to pay attention to everyone and did not get overwhelmed made it seem like it should be. He made eye contact with people, he nodded at the right places, and never made anyone feel uncomfortable. This also prevented me from actually speaking to him and canceling the date. I tried to find another time during the day to do it, but somehow he always seemed to be talking to someone.

When I got home, there was no one home. The computer was closed. Everything was quiet. Maybe she got bored and went home. I thought to myself. Or maybe she disappeared. The second thought scared me. A lot. Ghosts sometimes just disappear. Maybe they move on to another form of the afterlife. Maybe they just cease to exist. I do not know. I have never known anyone who disappeared to ever return.

“Lona? Are you here?” I walked through the apartment, looking around. There is something about walking around a place looking for something that makes everything seem a little creepier. The figurines I collected, the posters on the wall, my reflection in the mirror all seemed to be watching me. Dozens of eyes all focused on me. Dull plastic expressions waiting for something. I heard a clatter behind me and spun on my heel. Nothing was there. I swore that I heard a soft clicking noise, like heels. But that is impossible. Ghosts do not make noise when they walk. Unless they want to, I thought. I checked the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom (although I do not know why she would be there) and then went back out to the living room. I had called out a few more times, but she was not responding. Well, maybe she went home.

The word echoed in my head several times. It sounded wrong. Look, I know it had only been a few days since she had started living here, but I had kind of gotten used to having someone around. Someone to talk to about my day. Someone who cared about what I thought and did not think I was crazy. Someone who decided to spend their free time with me. I sat down on the couch and hunched over and looked down at my coffee table. The puzzle she had finished was still on the table.

I did not notice the little action figure crawl up the back of the couch and stand triumphantly behind me. I also did not see it launch itself from the back to my neck and scream “Die monster! You don't belong in this world!”

I jumped up and it fell from my neck, but somehow managed to cling to my shirt and started to crawl up. I clutched at the small figure and held it up. It was a rather expensive action figure of a superhero from a movie I liked. The fingers were fully articulated and so were most of the joints that it had. The little figure struggled in my grip and pounded on my hand. “Let me go! Let me go!”

It was speaking in Lona's voice. Because of course it was. I sat the figure down on the table and sat back down. “What were you doing?”

The little doll tried to stay sitting up but ended up falling limp and collapsed, head resting on the edge of the puzzle. Lona appeared just next to the table. She looked more transparent than normal. “Phew! Like, having a body is so much work! I never noticed when I was alive.”

She draped herself on the couch, resting her feet on my lap. “I just thought it would be fun to surprise you!”

“I was certainly surprised,” I said, with a bit more acid than was warranted. She frowned at me and shook her head. “So, you can possess dolls and action figures, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was playing with it a little. He's a little more . . . flexible than your other toys.” She said, smirking to herself. “Which is totally ironic. But yeah, I couldn't just veg out on the couch all day.”

I sat there considering the figure. I had a thought, but I had no idea of how to pitch this to her without it sounding incredibly stupid. To be fair, it was incredibly stupid. She leaned forward and tried to grip my arm, but her hand went through and she let out a sound of surprise and fear. I looked over at her. She was even more transparent than she was a moment ago. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled out over her translucent cheeks. I reached out and grabbed her hand, my fingers intertwining with hers. A little color flooded into her, but she continued to cry. I did not know what to do, so I pulled her closer and laid her down on my lap. She did not sink through me. I just held her hand and stroked her hair. She closed her eyes and continued to weep for a while longer. By the time she stopped, it was starting to get dark. She seemed more solid now. Her color had fully returned and if I was not looking closely, I probably could not tell she was a ghost.

She continued to lay there long after her tears had faded away and she just looked up at me. She was an ugly cryer. Her face got all blotchy and her nose got all red and her eyes puffed up and got all bloodshot. It was hard to tell on a ghost sometimes, given that they were a little see-through, but with her it was easy. The effects stayed after she was done, but she looked more relaxed. She stared up at me. “You look like you had a hard day.”

“Y-yeah. A little.” I bit my tongue, trying to decide whether or not to tell her about Victor's request. And my idea of how to actually fulfill it. She made it a little bit easier for me.

“Tell me about it.” She requested, reaching up and brushing her hand across my cheek.

“I kind of told someone about you today.” I began. She looked at me, surprised, but did not say anything. “Well, kind of. I didn't tell him that you were a ghost. I just said that I had met someone and that they lived in town.”

“That doesn't sound too bad,”

“Well, the way they took it was that we were dating. And now they want to go on a double date.” She laughed at me. It was not malicious. It was actually kind of cute after watching her cry. She nuzzled her head into my leg a little bit more and shook her head.

“What did you say to that?”

“Nothing. I tried to decline it but he wouldn't let me. He just kept talking and then walked away as I was trying to refuse.” I said, dejectedly. She just laid there, watching me. “I was going to tell him tomorrow that it wouldn't be possible. I might just clarify that we're not dating or anything of the sort and that you couldn't meet them anyway.”

“Like, that's less fun.” She said, considering the option. “But I can't exactly go on a double date with people who can't see ghosts. That would totally be weird. I'd be the weird fourth wheel and you'd be the crazy looking third wheel . . . Unless you had an idea of how I could. Which I think you did.”

“W-what makes you say that?” I said, panic creeping into my voice.

“You said you were going to tell him. But you thought of a way around it. What is it?”

“Well . . . You . . .” I did not know how to say this without it being stupid. “I . . . You could possess a doll.”

“What kind of doll could I possess that they wou- . . . You want me to possess a blow-up doll!” She exclaimed, then burst out laughing, falling off my lap and the couch.