Salty Tears

           

           Harold stumbled down the stairs wearing ragged blue jeans, moccasins, and a pink t-shirt. He stubbed his toe, screamed “shit,” and sat down on the bottom stair to gingerly caress the afore-mentioned toe.

            “Should have manifested steel-toed boots,” Harold said.

            Miles, perched on his computer station, closed the screen to his mini-iPad. Miles worried that if Harold knew he had basically hired Miss Kitty to look into the mysterious disappearance of Harold’s wife, Lilith, Harold would become all higgledy-piggledy, and fall backwards in his ghostly therapy.

            “Good morning, Harold,” Miles said. “You are looking especially fit as a fiddle today, hmm.”

            “Thanks, Miles,” Harold said. “I sure wish I had my fiddle back from Fiddlin` Red. And the new parlor guitar. And a new shirt.”

            Miles snickered. Why, just a couple of weeks ago, Harold moaned about the cabin in a constant state of naked invisibility and beheadedness.

            “One thing at a time, Harold. You are making a marvelous, um, recovery, don’t you think?  How’s the new song coming, hmm?”

            “Miles, are you trying to distract me from whatever you are doing on your little computer?”

            Miles raised his eyebrows. As Harold’s recovery escalated, Harold’s thinking processes also improved. Miles wondered if he should write a research article about Harold, but wisely decided against such an endeavor. For one, Miles was much to close to the subject, and couldn’t maintain a stance of impartiality. In addition, the human world simply wasn’t ready to believe in the ghostly dimension. Why, the human scientific community would laugh at Miles.

            “Miles,” Harold said. “Cat got your tongue?”

            “Oh, Harold,” Miles said. “You are spry and wry this morning. I was just contemplating the wonder of you, your incredible musicianship, your determination to succeed as an artist, and the fact that you are visible and wearing clothes. I’m just so happy for you.”

            Harold got all teary-eyed, but for the first time, the tears that escaped from his brilliant blue eyes were clear and tasted like salt. Harold licked them with his snake-like tongue.