6/26/2024 Ghost of the Toilet
Shelly hummed as she stared at her reflection. She wanted to do something different with her appearance. She just didn't know what. New hairstyle? Maybe a pair of contacts with a different color? A new make up style? She huffed as she couldn't make up her mind which to even attempt.
A soft knocking caught her attention. She didn't recall having anyone who could knock over.
“Shelly, it's Alphonse.” The voice was soft, like a whisper.
Shelly sighed. She forgot that a ghost was living in her house. It hasn't been long since she had gained the ability to see ghosts. And Alphonse had been an active ghost until her accident. Speaking was new to him after so many years.
She smiled. The spectre was trying to be polite. She opened the door to see a rolling cart with a cup of tea on it and Alphonse politely standing there.
“I made…” his face dulled as he tried to recall the word for drink he had prepared. “You make it every morning. You say it smells like oranges?”
Shelly smiled as she took the cup from the tray. “Thank you Alphonse. The drink is called tea.” She smelled it. It did smell like her orange spice tea. It wasn't hot. More of a room temperature though. She took a sip. The taste was off. He boiled the tea leaves too long or at too high a temperature.
Alphonse frowned at the face. “I'll practice and have it better next time.”
“I'm amazed you're able to physically interact with items.” Shelly stated. She found him getting stuck in walls often. He excused it as the house used to have a different layout.
“I saw it in some TV shows.” Alphonse stated. The TV was how he was learning about how the world had changed. It seemed she left it on some paranormal channel one day. “So I wanted to try it.” He gave a nervous smile. His feet were still fairly see through still. His face, however, was easier to see.
Shelly nodded. “You did fairly well for a first attempt. Though why the cart?” She wondered where he even found a cart.
“I still struggle to stay tangible for long periods.” Alphonse twiddled with his wrist. The cuff he wore was frayed.
Shelly nodded. She likes that as a ghost stuck to her house, he was trying to be kind to her, the human living in his home. He seemed to have come to terms with his death. She wanted to pry but based on what she had read and seen, doing so lead to bad outcomes. All of it was fiction, but she wasn't willing to test it in case it was based in reality.
She stared at his clothes. “I'm wanting to change my look,” she changed the topic. “But I can't figure out which to do. How do you make those decisions?”
Alphonse blinked a bit. “I never thought of changing my look since…” he shrugged. “But before then, I would just try something on. Hair styles are a bit different since you might not like your hair if you cut it.”
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