The Day I Died
“Get in here, Ichabod!” screamed Ingrid.
The apparition materialized before her. “Milady,” it said.
“Don’t milady me. You told me you died here of ‘the consumption’ in 1890. Well, I’ve been on ancestry sites all week and I can find no evidence of you ever living or dying in this building.”
“We weren’t thorough at keeping records 150 years ago, darling.”
“And, this building wasn’t even finished until 1909!”
“I can explain!”
“I made love to you!”
“Okay, maybe I fudged the date a bit and meant 1990. And maybe by ‘the consumption’ I meant, ‘choking on French toast sticks.’”