I found it strange that the knocking didn’t come. Finally she’d stopped, I thought. My wife died of a heart attack, and we buried her two days ago. My grieving stopped when I saw her standing in front of the door, at precisely eight PM, the time of my daughter’s bedtime. She almost always helped her fall asleep. The maggots eating into her eyes, and green fungus growing on her cheek gave her away. She was still dead.

I walked over to my daughter’s room, but I didn’t hear the sound of a youtube video.

Slowly I glid the door open and found the room dark with my daughter in bed.

My heart skipped a beat. There was a figure beside her in bed, hugging her. My wife winked at me, and whispered, “Close the door.”