The one that haunts the empty coffee tin that I won’t throw out because I like the smell of coffee more than I like the coffee itself
The one that lives behind that couch that’s too shy to show its face even though I keep inviting it to board game night
The one that haunts my philodendron. It doesn’t like me much, but the philodendron seems to enjoy the company
The ever present gasoline fumes coming from the garage, even though I’ve never kept a car in it
The wistful one that hangs around the porch light waiting for someone to come home
The picture from when you were younger, with the crack in the frame from the time I accidentally knocked it off the wall
The loud one that we buried in the backyard to muffle the sound
The hole in the kitchen floor that you have to step over to get to the sink. Not the hole itself, but the thing it contains
8.5 The one that refused to fill out the census for this list.
The sharp sadness that sometimes lives between the third and fourth rib
The one that sounds like your second favorite song played on the radio in the basement with dead batteries
The reason I won’t check my voicemails anymore
The one in the flower pressed between the pages of a book I never got around to reading
The one in the entryway wearing a party hat who won’t stop talking about the Freemasons