Roommates

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

I suppressed a deep sigh at the question, knowing fully well she was paying attention to every single sound in the room.

“Sona?” She called out, the tremble in her voice made me respond quickly.

“No. there’s no such thing as ghosts.” I said as convincingly as I could.

“Are you saying that to make me feel better?” She asked.

“I would never do that!” I replied, grinning.

“Then how can you be so sure? Even after what happened today?”

“I closed the window, Trisha.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did! I was cold and it was raining outside. So I closed the window and got comfortable and forgot about it.”

“No. I saw your face before when we entered the room.”

“I have a bad memory. Way to remind me of my injury, you jerk!” I smirked, trying to stop her train of thought.

“Sona…”

I leaned from the top bunk to look at my roommate, who was staring back at me from her bed, her blanket in a protective cosy bundle around her.

“Dude. Will you calm down and go to sleep already!?” I exclaimed.

“But how did it happen?”, she didn’t seem to let go of the minute change n our daily routine.

“I did it!”

“You’re just lying to make me shut up.” I shrugged and laid back down.

“Well…yeah. I didn’t do it. The ghost did it. I am always telling you there are three people in this room instead of two. You’re the one who chose not to believe me.” I muttered, a bit irritated now.

“Stop joking. I’m really scared.”

I sighed loudly this time and started explaining as calmly as I could.

“Think about it. What would a ghost gain by playing with our window?”

“What about all the other stuff that’s been lost.” She countered.

“You live with me! I can’t even find my toothbrush daily, I’m that absent minded. My mother can vouch for that!”

“……right”

“See? I got cold. You were away. I probably had some stupid horror podcast on. I got up from my table. And shut the window and came back.” I could sense both of us had traced the room with our eyes while I told this. “It was raining with so much wind today.” I added.

“Yeah..” she replied.

I could almost hear the story clicking into place in her brain.

“Yeah, you don’t even seem to be the same room when you have that podcast on..”

“Yes” I leaned over the barrier again to glance at her. She looked thoughtful. I kept going

“And I never lock my wardrobe. I lied when I said I did to make you get off my back. I never even bought the lock for it. our room almost always has the fan on full blast, that’s why the wardrobe makes weird noises.”

“I know that” she had started to sound a bit more like herself.

“Awesome! And I must have knocked that bag from over the top of the table cupboard. You know its awfully close to me.” I demonstrated by outstretching my hand and reaching the top of the surface.

“Are you sure?” she was gazing at my hand and trying to make herself believe that could have happened.

“Yes! I am! And dude, we have a very rickety fan.. I mean, just shut up and listen to it for a second.” We both quieted sown and heard the now familiar “ric tic tic ric tic tic” of the ceiling fan which was, to be honest, way too visible from the upper bed.

“It looks like it has seen some hard times. Almost on the verge of losing its grip from the ceiling.” I said, dryly.

 I laid my cheek on the barrier and looked at Trisha again, “We have a great room here. Stop being an oddball and go to sleep. Everything is perfectly fine”

She smiled back at me and said, “I know. Sorry.”

I rolled my eyes.

She laughed and said, “Thank you. What will I do without you?”

I grinned and laid back down before saying, “Goodnight Trisha. Let me sleep now. Not a word!”

“How rude!” she replied, her voice still rung with laughter. “Goodnight Sona”

She fell asleep in a few seconds like she always did the second she stopped talking. I waited till I heard her breathing grow deeper, before I sat up and glared jokingly at the girl who sat on top of my wardrobe on the opposite side of our tiny hostel room. The ceiling fan was between us, its rickety self a reminder of the weight it once held.

She was staring at the sleeping Trisha as if scared to wake her up. Once she seemed that the girl on the bottom bunk was finally asleep, she looked at me and grinned sheepishly.

My eyes flitted across her swollen blue neck with the dirty red rope mark which looked prominent even in the darkness of the room, when I heard her say, “It really was cold…”

THE END