Here, There, and Everywhere

No one knew how to feel about Dr. Roberts hanging around. Showing up at your suite at all hours. Fiddling with things. Especially pilfering the fruit bowl on the sideboard in the hall. You couldn’t keep it full.

When he came tonight, I was in my room reading his journals. He had some theory about all the missing 21-gram souls equating to the 85-percent missing dark matter in the universe. Non-corporeal spirits escaping dying creatures on all worlds and aggregating on interstellar currents at the galactic center.

Or some such.

“If he wasn’t so stubborn,” I shrugged and stood when the doctor knocked, “He’d have the answers to these mysteries.” I swung open the door to find a pear sitting in the middle of the oriental runner. Having choked to death on a grape in 1882, Roberts would’ve been halfway to Jupiter by now.

If he’d just leave the hotel.