Eve tried her best to work on orders in the hours until Operation Ghost Chat, but between Harvey, desperate to sleep in her lap, and the ghost, desperate to be a nuisance, she couldn’t focus. Seriously, the flickering lights were fine, if annoying, but the disappearing pens and faucet turning on constantly were a bit much.

Giving up, she got some food and watched a few episodes of Ghost Hunters Inc. with Harvey. He kneaded her stomach with his paws, and Eve reminded herself to pick up clippers for his sharp little needle claws.

And then she woke up. Harvey stood on her chest, his paws four points of pressure, and meowed in her face. Eve took a breath and blinked. The high arm of the couch stretched her neck to an uncomfortable angle, and despite the residual heat from the day all around her, she was shivering. Her phone’s clock read 8:53 PM.

She sat up, bleary-eyed and trying to process how much time had passed. She’d been asleep for hours but felt as exhausted as she had that morning. Slowly she stood and stepped over to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Maybe if she started now, she could be ready for more spooky bullshit and Ezra’s awkward sincerity by the time he arrived.

Ezra arrived, once again, at exactly 10. This time Eve was positive he’d waited to be precisely on time; she’d watched Harvey stroll to the door at 9:57 and sit down like he was waiting. Ezra looked hopeful and determined when she opened the door for him, and this time, he stroked Harvey softly on the head before standing back up.

“I brought what you said we needed,” he said. He yawned as he set his backpack down on a kitchen chair and shook his head out like a dog after a bath. “Sorry. This is later than I usually stay up.”

“’S all good,” Eve said. “I’m tired, too.” Harvey meowed at her and jumped up onto the counter, and then the fridge, where he watched the proceedings intently. Ezra began pulling candles out of his worn black bag. They were all different ages and sizes, most partially used already. He had more than a dozen stashed in there, along with a long-handled lighter.

“Why do you have so many candles?” Eve asked.

“For emergencies,” Ezra said, like it was obvious. “In case the power goes out, I want to be able to see.”

Eve pursed her lips and started setting the candles up around the edge of the table, which was conveniently circular. She sniffed them as she did, expecting a wide array of scents, but they were all unscented.

“You sensitive to fragrances or something?” she asked. Ezra’s back stiffened, and he carefully set the candle he was holding down.

“Yeah, they irritate my nose,” he said. He didn’t look at Eve, and she moved on to end the weirdness.

“Okay. Anyway. Technically we’re supposed to have at least three people for this. But I don’t know anyone else in this town, so whatever.”

“Me either,” Ezra said. He started lighting the candles as Eve set them down.

She glanced at him. “How long have you lived here?”

He grimaced. “Ah, about a year. I…only talked to Chelsea.”

Eve grunted and kept setting out the candles in silence. Once she’d completed a circle with them, she straightened up and looked over the table. With the candles, it almost looked appropriately mystical. Eve scowled at it.

“Where’s the food?” she asked. “We should set it up in a bowl on the table.”

Ezra lit the last candle and set the lighter down on the counter. He dug through his backpack for a moment before pulling out a bag of spicy cheese puffs. Eve stared at it for half a second, considered the absurdity of trying to lure a ghost with spicy cheese puffs, and pulled a large bowl out of a cabinet.

“These were her favorite,” Ezra said, shuffling from foot to foot as he held the bag like it was full of cat poop. “I don’t know why, they’re garbage for you. But um, I figured that wouldn’t matter, with, ah, you know…”

“It works,” Eve said, cutting him off before he could work himself into an awkward spiral. “I mean, probably. I’ve never done this before.”

Blinking at her, Ezra handed over the bag. “But you seem to know so much about it. And you seem so comfortable with the thought of a ghost.”

Eve sighed. “Unfortunately. A ghost can’t do shit to me. What’s she gonna do, blow cold air in my face?” A cool breeze ruffled the stray hairs that had escaped from her ponytail.

“I guess,” Ezra said, glancing around the room.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Eve sat in one of the chairs at the table and gestured for Ezra to sit opposite.

He hesitated. “What, right now? Just like that?”

“Ya.” Eve pointed at the chair, and Ezra sat delicately in it, perching at the edge. “Theoretically, all we need to do is focus our wills, or whatever.” As if that shit worked. Eve held back an eye roll as she stretched out her hands to Ezra. Why, if the ghost was already hanging out in her living room, did she need to “focus her will” to get Chelsea to talk? It smelled like some bullshit. Especially considering how most mediums worked, which involved more social media research and clever suggestion than ghosts.

Ezra tentatively took her hands and watched closely as Eve closed her eyes and “focused her will.” Ridiculous.

“Yo, Chelsea, if you’re there, could you say something?” Eve said. The apartment was silent beyond the crackle and hiss of the candles. Even Harvey was quiet, perched on top of the fridge and watching them intently. Eve cracked an eye open to see Ezra doing the same.

“Is it working?” he whispered.

Eve rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. You don’t have to whisper, dude.”

“Well I don’t know how this works,” he said, frowning. “I’m just following your lead.”

“How would I know if it’s working or not?” Eve frowned back and closed her eyes again. “We know you’re there, Chelsea. There’s not much point in pretending. Say something.”

Once again, nothing happened. Eve sighed loudly.

“Be patient,” Ezra said. “How long is it supposed to take?”

Eve pursed her lips and held back a second sigh. “Every time I’ve seen it, the medium spoke for the ghost pretty much immediately. Probably because it’s bullshit.”

She dropped her hands, and Ezra released them.

“If you think it’s BS, why are we even doing this?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, how can it be BS when you admit your apartment is haunted?”

“Ghosts can be real without all the accompanying psychic bullshit also being real,” Eve said. She reached into the middle of the table, took a handful of spicy cheese puffs, and shoved them into her mouth. “If you don’t talk, you don’t get any snacks,” she said with her mouth full. Ezra made a face at her. She chewed and swallowed, and then took another cheese puff. “It’s worth a try, at least.”

“Why don’t we try the spirit board?” Ezra said, leaning forward. “She’s here, right? I saw her moving things around earlier. So she should be able to communicate with us that way, at least. We just have to keep trying.”

“Fine.” Eve stood up. “I’ll go grab it.” She stalked down the hallway to her bedroom and dug through the box with the dumb shit her parents had sent with her when she’d moved out. She paused for a moment to yawn. When did she get so old and exhausted?

A voice drifted in from the kitchen, and she stopped in case Ezra was talking to her.

He was talking, but not to Eve. “Chelsea?” he said faintly. There was no response. He kept talking anyway. “It’s weird, being here without you. Everything’s weird now. I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out what happened to you. Whatever it was, I’ll do my best. I…” he broke off briefly, and Eve thought she heard him take a shuddering breath. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” And then, much more quietly, so quietly that Eve felt bad for listening, for holding her breath to hear, “I wish you were alive still. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Eve’s heart squeezed horribly. She opened and closed her drawers loudly, making sure each footstep slapped hard against the wood floor before hefting the spirit board box into her arms and stepping out.

“Found it,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. Ezra had moved some of the candles around so he could sit next to Eve. She looked at him closely, trying to be subtle about it, but he didn’t look upset. Not that she would’ve known what to do if he was. “Let’s give this another shot.”

“Yes!” Ezra said. He smiled at her and sat down in the seat next to hers as she unpacked the spirit board. “I’ve only seen these in movies.”

“It’s got instructions,” Eve said absently as she pulled everything out. The board unfolded into an array of letters and numbers, and the little wooden triangle thing glided smoothly on top of it.

“We’re supposed to put our fingers lightly on the, uh, ‘planchette’ together,” Ezra read off the back of the box. “And move it around for a bit to ‘warm it up.’” He made a considering face and set his fingers, the nails bitten short, on the planchette and looked up at Eve.

Sighing, she followed suit and settled the tips of her fingers around the edge. Together, they moved their hands around the board in circles until Ezra nodded.

“You should ask the questions,” he said, “since she’s haunting your apartment.”

Eve frowned. “Chelsea, are you here?” she asked.

Nothing. The planchette wiggled and meandered around the board, guided by the involuntary movements of their hands, but it never landed on anything, and it certainly didn’t lead to “YES.”

Eve gave the planchette a little wiggle, but when she stopped, it stopped, too. Ezra stared at the board like it might move at any second. He had that same focused look on his face as when he’d interviewed her.

His hand flexed a little as he moved it in a small circle, too. Again, nothing happened.

Eve tried again. “If you’re there, Chelsea, have you considered saying ‘yes,’ or something?” And again, the planchette refused to move in any purposeful manner. Chelsea could move things around, so why wasn’t she?

Eve tried again. Ezra tried, too. She ate more cheese puffs to remind Chelsea of what she was missing. And regardless of what they asked, how they asked it, and how long they waited, the planchette never moved beyond tiny, directionless twitches.

Ezra looked up at Eve. Dejection didn’t look right on his face; he was supposed to look earnest and determined.

“I don’t think it’s working,” she said, giving voice to their thoughts. She closed her eyes briefly. Her eyelids were so heavy, her eyes dry and stinging.

She stood suddenly and flopped onto the couch. What was it about pushing around a little wooden triangle that was so hard? Especially when nothing had happened?

“What are we supposed to do now?” she said. She blinked slowly and leaned her head back against the couch.

Ezra sat next to her, though again he perched on the edge like he might have to get up at any second. “I’m not sure. I didn’t know what to expect when you called me. Thank you, by the way,” he added with a sincerity that Eve found embarrassing. She nodded and looked away. “But if Chelsea won’t—or can’t—talk to us, we might need professional help.”

“Like a priest or something?”

He nodded and tilted his head. “Maybe a ghost investigator or medium.”

“At least a priest believes what he’s saying,” Eve muttered. “Mediums are scam artists. But I’d be willing to talk to a ghost investigator.”

Ezra huffed out a small laugh. “You literally live in a haunted apartment,” he said. “Maybe mediums aren’t scamming as much as you think.”

Eve side-eyed him. “Shut up.”

He laughed again.