The unopened door, part 9

In this moment, I questioned my very sanity. Had I gone mad, or was this all a dream? The latter explanation seemed implausible, for the experience of my senses appeared far more real, more vivid, than any mere dream could ever be.

Yet madness seemed an entirely inadequate explanation. For if I were truly mad, would I have retained the presence of mind to question my own sanity? My thoughts in this regard were suddenly interrupted, in a most agreeable manner.

For the apparition of my beloved leaned forward again and bestowed another kiss upon my lips. And in that moment I was lost. I returned the kiss, and gave myself over completely to the reality of the situation.

“A ghost?” I heard myself reply, as though nothing out of the ordinary had transpired, “I understand such apparitions to be invisible. That fact alone would render them extremely difficult to see.”

“True,” she laughed, and with the sound of her laughter I felt a great burden lift from my soul. “Now that you have returned to yourself,” she said, “perhaps I can put on the kettle.”

“A spot of tea would be wonderful, my love,” I agreed. We retired to the living room, which seemed to be just as I had remembered it, and soon we were lost in conversation.

Yet there was something about the room that was not quite as I remembered. As our pleasant conversation continued, this discrepancy began to gnaw at me, distantly at first, then gradually with greater urgency.

What, exactly, was amiss? I found myself furtively scanning the room, examining it for details. And then, all at once, I had it.

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