GHOSTLINE BLING. ☆

     “i said, i’m going to step out for a few minutes to call my dad and check on my kids, do you want me to bring you back a coffee? you look like you need it.” he looks completely exhausted, and frankly she’s amazed that he hasn’t just passed out already. “i’m getting myself one, so it’s not like an inconvenience for me, or anything. i can get you pumpkin spice…”

        it’s been years. it doesn’t startle him anymore. but it doesn’t mean he’s able to ignore it. it feels like pins, prickling underneath his skin, at the back of his neck, across his scalp. the form isn’t visible, exactly --- chooses not to be, but where it is precisely is felt in a sense that can’t be named. it lingers behind a man, an essence of static trailing and dakota thinks that if he were to reach out into that space, he would feel the spark of it in the air.

        frankly, he doesn’t know if looking away and ignoring its presence would be polite. staring in a living person’s general direction? that tends to be frowned upon. then he realizes what it might mean to have the spirit aware of his awareness, and decides he needs to leave. there’s an abrupt, jerking turn on his heel --- he just hopes the entity won’t follow him as he goes.

        ❝ sorry --- didn’t sleep so much last night. what’d you say? ❞ oh, god. the sleep he did get? not even in bed. at his desk, drooling. not a very pretty picture. the rest of the night was plagued by bumps in the night he did his best to ignore. his neighbors might actually start complaining, and he’s got no excuse.  ❝ i’m out of it. ❞

dakota lives in a small, apartment in bushwick.

college educated. a degree in business psychology.

seeking a job in that field. however, he’s currently managing a branch of an imaging company in the city.

doesn’t really advertise being a medium --- it kind of gets around.

because he’s told those he’s close to, of course, and had provided them with services.

every now and then, he’ll get a ring on his doorbell from a potential client.