A stranger wanders in
She looks outside. A window and the rain. It's cold. Better than sleeping in the forest, she thinks.
It used to be a nice house. You could still see the ghosts of the people who lived there. They carried on with their business. As if they had never died, the mother tries to mend some old socks. Her dad throws more wood into a fire that gives no more warmth than his ghostly fingers.
Finally, some peace, she says. An empty chair. The spirits try to ignore her. Not because she is an intruder, but because she is a reminder. Try to touch her. It'll break the spell. Maybe. They won't push their luck. They look at each other. She'll go the next morning, they agree.
Licking wounds. Sometimes, people live. They just live. And they forget after a while. She expected to find an ending. But there's more life inside this house than she ever found in her previous one.
She doesn't leave. The ghosts don't mind.