My hand trembled and my skin paled to contrast against the hairs. Fingers rose, and lay above the painted wood. I knocked on her door, and my hand fell through. Not a sound, not a pound, not a solid consistency.
What the heck? It happened again! First the doorman ignores me, and now this.
I pulled my hand back in astonishment, backing away to the middle of the hall. Slowly, I pressed my hand flatly against the door. It was there. I touched it. I felt it. I leaned my weight against it. And then, something I could barely sense came loose, and I fell through the door.
I fell to my knees in her front hall of her apartment. It was familiar territory. Looking around, I noticed her cat on the carpet. I wondered, What's happening? How did I get inside?
I got up and called to it, "Icarus, come here."
I did not necessarily expect the cat to come. It was, after all, a cat. But I did expect it to notice me. And it did not. But she did.
She walked out of the kitchen with a wicked grin on her face.
I followed her as she walked into the living room.
"Are you my poltergeist now, Henry?"
I swallowed nervously, never having heard such an edge in her voice. "Your what?"
"Oh," she realized, giggling. Her voice was sweet. I missed it whispering in my ear last night. To hear it again was so nice. "You haven't caught on yet."
A devious grin etched itself from cheek to cheek upon her pretty face.
I realized then that I couldn't remember much of last night. But I did remember that smile.
"You like what we did to you, don't you?"