A Ghost Story in Twelve Short Chapters
By: Gregg Lagambina

Chapter 1.

This might be a ghost story.
It's only the two of us here, in this place. The moon is almost full gibbous I think they call it. High up and bright, being harassed by fast moving clouds, the light falls across the glass table in stutters, as if the moon were a loose old motorcycle headlamp being knocked about by a bumpy path. There are leaves in the darkened pool, the patio umbrellas are tied up in bundles, and every window of the hotel behind us is black those same clouds racing across them in reverse. It rained yesterday, so the air seems thick. Maybe if one of us jumped we could linger up in it for a moment, held by whatever damp thing is handing about us, moving through us, grazing a cheek, lifting up a mint leaf out of the ice and over the rim of our short-glass mojitos. We look each other in the eye, clink our cocktails together. and bang them at once back onto the table in memory of those who can't be with us here, anti lift them again to our mouths. taking in the mixture of rum, cane, soda water and lime. But I'm the only one who hears it. A woman's voice whispering, "There's a song in this place."

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