I’ve put on a stiff upper lip in public, but Geoff’s Twitter antics rattled me more than I let on. Athena Liu’s Ghost. A grotesque choice of name; surely chosen to surprise and provoke, but there’s more truth to it than even Geoff knows. Athena’s ghost has anchored itself to me; it hovers over my shoulder, whispering in my ear every waking moment of the day.
It's maddening. These days I’ve started dreading the thought of trying to write, because I can’t write without thinking of her. Then, of course, my thoughts inevitably spiral beyond the writing to the memories: the final night, the pancakes, the gurgling sounds she made as she thrashed against the floor.
I thought I’d gotten over her death. I was doing so well mentally. I was in a good space. I was fine.
Until she returned.
But isn’t that what ghosts do?