The underlying problem

She was the ghost haunting his dreams, with a sad song and murderous eyes.

“This isn’t really productive to my sleep,” he told his doctor. He wasn’t sure he liked the new town doctor, but they were the only one there now. The last woman had retired and this left them with her apprentice, newly licensed and ready to go.

But they spent most of their time with their vials. And asking ridiculous questions.

“Are you sure it’s not an actual ghost?”

See, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I’m just looking for something to help me sleep peacefully, doc.”

They rearranged some of the vials on the shelf, not looking back at him and where he sat. “I know. I can mask many things, but if there is a ghost involved wouldn’t you rather take care of the underlying problem?”

There were no such things as ghosts. He said that.

His doctor finally turned to him and grinned.

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