Old Haunts
I’m back in my old haunt. I don’t flinch when I stare down the peephole this time. When I double-check the door lock, which doesn’t quite catch on the first try before bed, there’s no triple-checking on an eyehole stuffed with wadded-up tissue.
I’m back in my our old haunt. The light stays on. A battery-powered wax candle becomes a cheap desk lamp becomes a fluorescent overhead bulb, lest a devoid, sallow-eyed figure find opportunity to stare from a dark corner. Wasted electricity beats wasting away.
I’m back in my old haunt. Stars are puttied to the popcorn ceiling where there weren’t any before. (Technically, they’re stuck to the walls—such beloved fire codes—but staring at a wall isn’t as poetic at night as staring at the ceiling.) I turn my mattress sideways against the opposite wall, engulfed by the same sheets. But a washing machine cycle, or several thousand, works wonders. I change my detergent and fill the dryer with lavender sheep’s wool, but scents don’t cling the way shadows do. There’s a new rug down the hallway, new lamps, and new (old) couches. If it all looks nothing alike, then it’s hardly the same place at all.
I’m back in my our old haunt. Exposure therapy is healthy, I remind myself mid-lather. From my periphery, the folds of the polyethylene curtain shift just right, and I see your silhouette. The automated lights (in their convenient timing) flicker out. The showerhead, elbow-nudged from boiling lobster to boiler room, spills down and sizzles where skin and acid rain meet. My hair catches in the drain, creeps back up, and wraps around my toes. They tangle and tug until my knees hit the tile. In blind thrashes, I reach for the switch. Upon enlightenment, I’m greeted by toppled soap bottles and empty space. The grout stings my knees. The suds, my eyes. The phantom outline, everything else.
Archer Maduro is a senior at SUNY Geneseo, studying English (creative writing). With a long-term dream of working in editing and publishing, they primarily write creative nonfiction and poetry. Archer has been previously published in Gandy Dancer and Geneseo’s Iris Magazine.