I wrote something about a theft. It's below.
While searching for the source of crying that came from somewhere inside of my friend’s bathing room closet, I learned he had stolen three of my gray towels, learned how his kind of friendship operates.
I’m going to steal them back after I die, when I become a house ghost. I’ll be the ghost of his house. I’ll do all of the laundry and oxygenate all of the fabrics with that fabric oxygenating soap until they are so full of air they unthread from the physical plane. His laundry will become my laundry. Towels I can use, clothes I can wear. I imagine ghosts start out naked. Being honest, I’ll be too ashamed for that.
Once you've made your ghost decision, everything becomes easier, everything flows until that point. Years turn like days anymore.
- Chad Redden lives in Indianapolis and spends his time here and here.