As I turn to leave she looks me in the eye with a squint and a suspicious, knowing smile.
“You’re a phantom.”
“Am I? How so?”
“I left this room to look for you; for help to fix a problem. I was right outside the door. Then, I turn around and somehow you’re in here. And you’ve already fixed it. You’re a phantom.”
I’ve been called many things, but never a ‘phantom’…