Food From a Hungry Ghost

Everett looked into the pale grey morning through her old screen door. He installed it after she’d asked him to, but only after putting up a fuss about having to do it for her.  For a few moments, he was lost watching the north-coast breeze, cold and heavy with salt, brush against a wooden sign Maude painted years ago. It was plain and sweet, with painted flowers forming a border, reading simply: “Paintings For Sale”.  As the winds rolled over that morning it made a sound like a child being rocked to sleep.  He blinked and the melancholy thought occurred to him that it was time to put that away, too.

She used strong wood that could stand up to anything but a storm’s wind and carried it out every morning until she couldn’t carry it anymore. She never nailed the sign to anything or posted it like he’d suggested she do. She’d been too gentle to hammer anything.

He thought about her while he picked it up.  Hugging the board to his chest he looked both ways on the street they had lived together and saw no one coming.  He set the sign inside the house to be with the rest of her things, and then he closed the door.  Outside, he felt the wind against his face.