“I saw the sad ghost,” I said at breakfast. The mood at table seemed rather despondent, and I found my mouth moving to fill up the silence. “Passed me on my way to the bathroom,” I added. “Queer thing. Don’t know why he should be sad, but I suppose ghosts do get sad.” No one answered. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? We’re trying to get some research done, and here’s a ghost ready to be researched if ever a ghost wanted research. Why’s he sad? Why pace the landing at odd hours? Who was he? How’d he die?”
Sad Ghost
Tale Told 