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  • It bothers me more that I can't remember what I was eating when we saw the ghost than the fact that I always forget which friend was with us. When I tell the story, I tend to say, "We went to Dairy Queen with Kris and then to the cemetery," but it wasn't Kris, it was Laura. Of course it was Laura. The three of us shared a little house, a bungalow, for a year, and her life intersected more with ours than Kris's did, although Kris was for one summer also our roommate, in a different house. The thing is, Kris was more practical, rational, while Laura appreciated the gently fantastic, the unexplained, the strange. Laura was an artist and had weird and enormous collections of tiny things. She allowed mold to grow on different kinds of fruit in our kitchen, just to watch the odd and beautiful transformations. Maybe I subconsciously want it to be the more scientifically-minded Kris who saw the ghost with us.

    So we went to Dairy Queen, the three of us, and then to the cemetery, where we famously saw the ghost. I remember its color, translucent, cool blue, and its hunched shape. I remember I was eating something cool and sweet--but was it a milkshake? A chocolate-dipped cone? A Blizzard? Did they make Blizzards in 1990?
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