Ghost in my soup

This is another one that wrote itself while I wasn't looking...

The ghost in my soup was staring back at me as if daring me to make a comment, so I began running through my options but came up short in the limitations I was faced with.

I eased back slowly to get a little distance but found myself almost startled out of my seat when it smiled at me.
‘Peculiar,’ I thought, as I smiled back.

When I raised my eyes to signal the waiter, the ghost coughed and said: “How do you do?

I was taken aback of course but remembered my manners in time and replied: “I’m fine thanks, how do you do?”

“Oh, so-so,” said the ghost looking out of the soup as if it belonged there.

‘I must be going bats,’ I thought, and once again tried to attract the waiter without being too overt in my actions; I didn’t want to create a fuss, but a witness would be nice.

“Don’t bother,” said the ghost, “only you can see me.”

So there I was staring into my soup in an empty diner on a rainy winter afternoon and talking to a ghost as if I had nothing better to do. And then I thought: ‘well actually, I don’t have anything better to do,’ and felt a little glum at my prospects.

“Cheer up,” said the ghost, “it could be worse you know.”

“How so?” I asked, wondering what could be worse than this.

You could be talking to my brother and he’s a real screamer,” said the ghost, trying it seemed, to be helpful.

“Righto,” I said, dragging it out a bit.

“Sure,” said the ghost in my soup, winking at me.

‘Crazy,’ I thought, and drifted off back to sleep leaving my by now cold soup and the crazy ghost to their own devises.

Image from Pixabay