The Ghost in the Bed

Dear Delyara, You’ve been gone for six months, but the space beside me still feels cold. I find myself talking to the shadows, waiting for a reply that never comes. I am tired of living in a haunted house. Tonight, I brought the ghost to the sanctuary. I wrote down every memory that keeps me trapped in the past—the smell of your jacket, the way you said my name, the way it ended. I told the paper that I am ready to be alone without being lonely. I am leaving the memories here in the archive. I am going home to a bed that is finally just mine.