His brother slugged his shoulder, “She said it’s not.”
The priest glared admonishments upon them.
She stomped from the house bedraggled and equipment burdened, passed the audience at the sidewalk to her car. “The house is most certainly not haunted,” she said, distracted, packing cases carefully away.
The priest studied her, “You don’t believe in an afterlife do you Miss Eastman?”
“I do not,” a fleeted grin passing her lips.
“Pity. You must feel quite alone.” he said turning away, back to the house.
Set startled by the sentiment, she was left confounded. Speechless.
For the story behind these three stories please read Discrepancies.