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    By Sarah Langford, 11
There is a ghost and she lives inside my apartment
I see her in the mirror every morning when I’m combing my hair
She looks like me. She has gaunt, protruding cheekbones
Yellow teeth that look like pale seeds in a pink flower
Her fingers are blue right at the friction ridges
She touches things with a type of feigned delicacy
Like she’s too afraid to smudge the crystal vase
To leave too much evidence she is really there
I do not like to acknowledge her existence
She is always mocking me
She sings my favorite songs with the wrong lyrics
And she is always trying on my frumpy gray outfits
Laughing at how they spool around her hollow stomach