There are only three things left in the kitchen: two cracked mugs and an old coffee maker. A man sits on the floor, back to the counter and eyes trained on the door. There’s a certain calm that floats just above his anxiety, the kind that comes with staring at something for so long that he stops seeing it altogether. He’s brought out of his reverie when he feels his wife’s presence—a shift in the air, the ghost of a footstep. Her voice startles him anyway.
“It’s midnight,” she says.
“I know,” he replies.
“The doors are locked.”
“And the windows are closed.”
“Then come back to bed.”
“I can’t,” he sighs.
She doesn’t say anything more and he gets up to hand her the yellow mug that she’s always used, but the mug slips right through her fingers. The man stares at her, confused, but his wife stays silent and he stares at her until he stops seeing her altogether.
Sydney Paige Guerrero is a 19-year old student of creative writing at the University of the Philippines Diliman with a passion for puns and the supernatural. “Of Broken Things” is her first publication. Follow her on Twitter.