The Ghost

At two o`clock in the morning, I am not sure if the biggest scare is that of the little spider, just a teenager, that flattens on the ground and runs away at sudden lighting up. Three o`clock and it is all right! It was neither a bird nor an airplane and much less the superman: it was only the wind and the implacable time passing by in the glass window reflex. Four o`clock in the morning. Insomniac specter going on his distressing round among the micro, the tv, and the icebox, keeping vigil for dreams, snores and purrs, in my utterly modest Canterville.