On the last day of the trial the jury left the courtroom.
We had to decide if the prisoner was guilty.
We did not disagree.
We all agreed that the prisoner had clearly murdered the man in this bed. Two hours later we returned to the courtroom.
The ghost of the murdered man stood across from the jury. He looked closely at my face. He looked pleased.
He was carrying a thin, gray blanket. He put the blanket over his head and body. I stood up.
Guilty, i said.
As i spoke, the gray blanket fell to the floor. It was empty. The ghost of the murdered man had gone.