Jack the Stripper

  “I’ll sic Sally on him,” said Jack, grinning at the thought.

  “Here’s to us,” said Brianna, holding her glass of champagne up for a toast. “May we live happy ever after.”

  “Happy ever after,” said Jack, clinking his teacup against her champagne flute.

  Down below, the barges lumbered in and out of their berths as the cranes lifted their loads and the moon rose, fat and yellow, to cast its light over the scene.

  The ghost came in and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the window. He pulled a pipe out of his leather pouch and lit it with flint and pyrite; then puffed ghostly smoke rings. The moonlight went right through him, he cast no shadow, and the smoke had no smell to it at all.

  Jack wondered who he was, and what his story could be, and hoped Sally could talk to him and find out. He also wondered how long “ever after” would be, and if he and Brianna would be happy together, if she would ever regret staying with him, and as he thought about that he came to the conclusion that life came without a guarantee. It was up to him to make the best of life.

  The ghost finished his pipe, got up, stretched, and then stood looking out the window. The moonlight faded him until there was nothing left. He simply faded away.

  But Jack had a feeling he’d be back.

  The End

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