Minutes to Mid-Nut

You are being haunted by a ghost.

There’s no other way to put it. There is literally a ghost standing— wait, do ghosts stand? This one has two legs that end in maryjane-shod feet that seem to touch the floor, but you swear you’ve not seen them move in a way that even approximates walking. The ghost just drifts, like it’s doing right now, orbiting you like a ghastly moon. 

“This has to be fate,” Karina whispers in an oddly echo-ey voice. She manifested out of thin air when you entered the bakery, and was oddly frustrated when you simply sighed and walked through her. You have no time to entertain spirits, needing to find a late night snack for your boss. Your boss would throw another stapler at you if you’re late for her snack run again.

“You can stop with the faux-ghost shit, you know,” you mutter as you peer into the glass display. “Why don’t you go away and bother someone else?”

“Umm, I can’t,” she replies sheepishly.

“What do you mean you can’t? Just float away, shoo,” you flap your hands at (and through) her, but all the ghost does is giggle.

“I’ve tried moving away from you. But it’s like there’s an invisible chain linking us, and you’re the anchor.” You look up and stare at Karina incredulously. First she tells you her name, then she tells you she remembers nothing else about herself and why she’s here, and now this! 

“So, what, I’m stuck with a ghost haunting me until I die?” You look around the bakery, noting that there’s no one else except for the bored-looking guy at the cashier. Makes sense. “And why did you decide to haunt me now? At,” you hastily check your phone, “eleven p.m.?”

Karina flashes a cheeky grin. “Would you be mad if I told you that I’ve been, uh, haunting you for a while now?”

“What.”

“Do you remember that time you dropped that stack of paper onto the floor at work?”

As if you could ever forget. It was possibly the worst day of your internship. Your boss had tasked you with printing report briefs for all the division heads attending the quarterly meeting, and you messed up by dropping the printouts all over the floor. Right before your co-worker tripped and spilled an entire venti mocha frappucino with whipped cream all over the mess.

Except now the incident makes more sense. You had felt something pulling at the stack of paper in your arms, and you swear that Sumin usually isn’t a klutz. And you make your displeasure known to Karina in no uncertain terms.

The ghost protests, cheeks puffing up indignantly, and she rises above the floor just a little bit. “I was trying to help!” You roll your eyes and walk away, determinedly setting your gaze back at the rows of baked goods in the glass display cases. 

Karina huffs and drifts after you like a balloon pulled along by a child. Except the child is you and you’re trying really hard to ignore this idiot of a floating ghost who keeps trying to justify her many good-intentioned actions which you are slowly recognising as the odd stuff that has been happening to you for a whole month. 

Like the time your coffee mug disappeared (“You need to cut down on caffeine!”). Or the time your PC unceremoniously did a forced shutdown while you were working on a report (“Did you even see your screen time for that week? Your poor eyes…”). Or that time a wrench(???) dropped on your head while hiding in the bathroom stall after getting chewed out by the boss (“It’s not healthy to shit for that long!”). 

The odd back and forth between you and the fairy godmother of a spirit halts when you find yourself standing in front of the donuts section. Karina falls silent mid-sentence and her eyes go wide as she looks at the row of circular fried dough dipped in a variety of sauces and glazes. It’s almost comical if you didn’t clock the wistful look on her face. 

Feeling bad for her, you check to make sure the cashier was distracted before offering an olive branch in the form of a glazed donut. “Want one?”

Karina gives you an odd smile and you (almost) feel bad for her. “I can touch things but I can’t eat food. It just goes through me like this,” she demonstrates by taking a bite of the donut. She mimes chewing for a moment, making a silly happy face and then scrunches her nose. A piece of donut falls onto the floor beneath her. “Can’t even taste it.”

“That sucks.” You turn away lest the prickly sensation in your eyes threaten to give away your feelings. There’s no way you’re empathising with a dead person of all things. “So why are you here then?”

“No clue. Why are we all here anyway?” Karina replies with a wink.

“Uhh okay. Then, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you die?”

“Honestly, no idea either. I told you I don’t remember anything from before,” she shrugs, turning back to look at the donuts on display, the longing plain as day on her face. “Except that I really like donuts.” Karina then turns to look at you. “Do you like em?”

“I’m celiac.” You laugh as she gasps.

“You mean you’ve never even had ONE donut?” The ghost looks around at the food options in the bakery. “Wait, so why are you even here in the first place?”

“Well, I’m not here to buy food for myself. I’m getting them for my boss.”

She perks back up. “Oh, the angry blonde chihuahua?” You nod at the description. Winter is not an easy person to work for even on the best of days, though her attitude at work had taken a sharp nosedive about a month ago. “Why don’t you get her a donut?”

You hem and haw at the suggestion. “I’ve never seen her touch one of those things before. I usually get her a croissant.”

“Trust me, get her a donut,” Karina insists, her eyes shining with determination. It’s honestly quite cute, and you feel your hand moving to pick the donut she has pointed out even before your mind can process it. “Who doesn’t like a donut? Besides you, of course,” she mutters when you raise an amused eyebrow.

You knock the door to Winter’s private office room. Except it’s not really a private office room but a cubicle that’s marginally larger than the others that litter the office floor, so you’re really just knocking on the nameplate bolted to the side of the cubicle wall.

Your boss, the bane of your existence for the past month or so, looks up from the monitor. Her large round eyes are ringed with tiredness, and her usually full cheeks are sunken in — subsisting on coffee and granola bars would do that to anyone, but Winter takes it to the next level.  

Winter simply stares at your with tired eyes and you suddenly feel like turning around and fleeing, but Karina nudges your side. “Come on, you can do it,” she whispers.

So you take a deep breath and hand her a paper bag. “Here’s your snack, boss.” Winter snatches the bag and opens it in front of you. Her brows narrow as she beholds a donut glazed in strawberry and chocolate sauce. She looks back at you with accusing eyes. 

“What is this? Where’s my usual?” There’s a crack in her voice, as if Winter is pushed off balance by the donut. Which is weird, so you defend yourself.

“I thought a change of pace would be nice.” Winter hums in reply as she lifts the donut to have a better look. Karina had drifted beside Winter, the ghost giddy in anticipation.

Your boss takes a tentative sniff before biting into the donut. Karina mimics the bite, doing a silly little jig as Winter chews with her eyes closed tight. You see a very foreign expression wash over Winter’s face — happiness. She’s smiling even as her cheeks are stuffed with fried dough. 

Karina smiles too, literal hearts shooting out of her eyes at your boss.

Oh. You recognise that look.

Winter doesn’t stop with one bite, and in no time at all, the only thing remaining in her hands is the empty paper bag. She still has the dopey smile on her face that slides right off when she realises you’re still in front of her. 

“Uhm, uh, thanks for the snack,” she stammers, crushing the bag into a ball and handing it back to you, her cheeks red as she looks anywhere but into your eyes. You nod slowly and turn around to head back to your own desk and pack up.

You check your phone before leaving. It's midnight. 

Karina doesn’t show up anymore, leaving as abruptly as she had entered your life. 

You keep buying donuts for Winter’s late night snacks, a different flavour everytime. She doesn’t treat you as badly as she used to, and she slowly becomes more of a mentor than an overbearing superior. And every time she finishes one of those pillowy circles of deliciousness, you swear you hear a voice echo from the side.

“Thanks for taking care of my Minjeongie…”