Alice was reading a book, as she usually did on her days off from classes. She had brewed some coffee, brought an ashtray, sat by the window, and started reading. Her eyes skimmed over the lines of text, her mind quickly assembled them into sentences, and her imagination conjured wonderful images of distant worlds. This was her moment, and not even Marcel dared to disturb her.

  She had been reading for several hours. Time passed far too quickly when she was engrossed in a good book. Finally, the text ended, the book was closed and set aside. Alice looked out the window, basking in the echoes of the story in her mind. She analyzed the ending, the structure, the individual scenes. Her thoughts drifted back to a few plot threads that had fascinated her the most, then she reached for another cigarette, only to find the pack empty. The girl sighed quietly and looked out the window again. It was fine, she didn’t need to smoke. Something else demanded her attention. She suddenly realized how hungry she was.

  Saddened that she’d returned to the real world, she went to the kitchen and started making herself a cheese sandwich. Suddenly, she remembered the dinners Helena used to cook. Damn, how she missed proper food. She was too lazy to cook just for herself. Paradoxically, she actually knew how to cook, and was good at it. She just considered it a waste of time, and besides, eating alone didn’t exactly inspire extra effort. Not in a small, empty apartment. Maybe it was time to move.

  She stood in the kitchen, slowly chewing her sandwich, washing it down with banana juice, and wondering where she should live next. Her financial situation had actually improved significantly since her last move. She could afford a spacious apartment, furnish it nicely, and drastically increase her comfort. The thought was tempting. She’d have the place soundproofed so she wouldn’t have to hear the neighbors’ racket. She’d finally be able to set up bookshelves for her collection, and maybe she’d even buy some decent pots. Right. The lack of kitchen equipment was another reason for her sandwich-based diet. Why buy things for a temporary apartment? How could she know if the same stuff would fit her next kitchen? She couldn’t. And the fact that she could easily afford two full cookware sets now, she treated with absolute contempt.

  “Hey, Marcel,” she said to the spirit sitting in the corner with his face buried in the floor. “Marcel, pull your head out of the neighbors’ business and let them fuck in peace.”

  The spirit bent his arm at a strange angle and flipped her off.

  Alice sighed and kept eating her sandwich. Living on her own was pleasant, but depressing in the long run. University might as well not exist. She hardly exerted herself in classes, and during exams she cheated completely, forcing the professor to ask questions she already knew the answers to. She didn’t have a job because her money multiplied through smart investments. She spent her days waiting for a brilliant idea to strike, something that would tell her how to best use this strange, extraordinary life of hers. Nothing had appeared yet, but she felt she was getting closer.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  She had plenty of free time, since her daily training was no longer even half as exhausting as it used to be. She couldn’t believe she was admitting it to herself, but she desperately missed chatting about nothing over tea and fresh cookies. What wouldn’t she give for an hour of aimless conversation with Helena? Grzegorz would have built new shelves, maybe some furniture, and Walery would have painted something to warm up the place. It would be livelier, more fun. Alice suddenly felt hopelessly lonely.

  “Marcel, I’m feeling sad,” she said, finishing her juice.

  At these words, the spirit shot up from the floor as if scalded and began studying her carefully.“I don’t know what this is about, but fix it yourself and leave me out of it,” he growled, backing away as far as possible.

  “I’m thinking about moving,” Alice explained calmly, putting the dirty dishes in the sink.

  For a moment, Marcel couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. He knew all the words, but the meaning escaped him. When it finally sank in, he felt even stranger, as if the world had gone mad and only he remained sane. Then another realization struck him: a potential move meant getting rid of the unpredictable lunatic. A wide smile spread across his face. Seeing it, Alice added a crucial detail.

  “Of course you’re moving with me,” she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and the simple sentence wiped every trace of joy off his face.

  “But how? Why? No, come on. You’ll do perfectly fine without me. Besides, I don’t want to move at all. I’d rather stay here, or even disappear. Yes, disappear completely, you heard me right. I could use a break from eternity, you understand. If you could just send me off to Heaven before you move, that would be great. But if you don’t have time…”

  “No.”

  The answer was so short and so blunt that there was no point arguing with it. Marcel was even about to express some resignation-tinged sadness, but he caught himself.

  “Why not?” he asked, wondering what was wrong with his mind that everything had become so tangled.

  “Because I’ll be sad without you, Marcel,” Alice said plainly.

  Marcel had to admit, that was honest and, in its own way, kind of sweet. Then he caught himself again and, annoyed by his own reaction, muttered:

  “It’s just that I’m suffering. Understand? Death, eternal suspension, eternal pain. That kind of thing, no need for you to worry about it.”

  “But it’s not forever. I’ll send you away eventually. I promised.”

  Marcel approached her, looked her in the eyes, and stayed silent for a long time. Something was bothering him, always out of reach, but unmistakably present.

  “You’ve been… different lately,” he finally said, though he still couldn’t explain why he felt that way. “I don’t understand what changed, but you really are different.”

  This time, Alice grew thoughtful. She looked into the spirit’s eyes, pondering something intensely, though she didn’t look like she’d found a satisfying answer.

  “I guess I am,” she finally replied.

  The spirit waited, but no other words came. Even if more thoughts had surfaced in her mind, the witch had no intention of sharing them. Irritated by her selfishness, Marcel drifted back to his corner and lowered his head through the floor again to spy on the neighbors during their mindless, almost animalistic sex. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to make love to a woman again.