I spent the week in Gothenburg staying with Rikke, who has a beautiful apartment in one of the nicer parts of town. We've known each other for more than ten years, so whenever we hang out, it’s like slipping into an old pair of shoes — comfortable and familiar, like a (slightly dysfunctional) married couple.
I’m not superstitious. Not really. But two things happened during my stay that made me pause.
Rikke’s apartment is a duplex, with the kitchen and dining area upstairs and the bedroom and living room downstairs. I was sleeping on a mattress by the stairs, and one of the first nights, I heard a loud bump from the kitchen. Fridge? Dishwasher? Snowman? I didn’t bother checking — just pulled the blanket over my head and went back to sleep.
The next morning, we were going to cut some grapefruit for breakfast and opened the drawer where Rikke keeps her knives. All of them were turned blade-side up. Rikke always stores them blade-down, so she looked confused and told me it had happened before — more than once.
We started checking the drawer every night before going to bed. And sure enough, a couple of nights later: a bump around midnight. Next morning? Blades up again.
Rikke is convinced it’s a male ghost. We’ve named him Elvis and told him he’s welcome to help himself to the gingerbread, as long as he leaves the knives alone.
