backforthmenu Ghost. I walk into the alley from my backyard after opening the old wooden gate. Behind me I pull a large plastic garbage container stuffed with Christmas debris—boxes, paper, ribbons, etc. It’s very early in the morning and very quiet. It is the day after Christmas and so I am startled by the sight of a little boy standing in the middle of the alley, barefoot in his pyjamas. He stands straight, and is as still as the building behind him. He’d been watching me before I caught his eyes. I can’t think of what to say. He speaks first. “You probably don’t remember me...” Not what I expected to hear. I cannot think of a response before he speaks again; “It’s been a couple of years. I’m your neighbor from back here.” He does not move. Does not flinch. I manage a “Hello.” I have no idea what else to say and we look at each other for a few seconds before I back into my yard and close the gate behind me. “Bye.” 12/26/98