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A Twisted Ghost Story

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The first time it was in the shower…at first he thought it was just water droplets trickling down his back. But then it felt stronger, as if someone’s fingers were caressing his bare skin. He whipped around only to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror. He had dismissed that incident, blaming his intoxicated head for all his hallucinations. When he woke up in the mornings he would find the left side of the bed a bit sunken, a slightly crumpled bedspread as if someone had slept in it the last night. But he was a heavy sleeper, hardly changing sides when asleep. Or may be not…the stress of moving into a new city, new workplace may have changed his sleeping patterns. He would never know, he shrugged.
But now he knew.
He was definitely not alone in his new flat. There was another person, perhaps a woman. And a rather hormone-driven at that... if ghosts had hormones that is. He wasn’t a faint-hearted person, yet sharing his apartment with this mysterious invisible person kept bugging him. …