The.uninvited

But no one ever talks about the.uninvited . You don’t invite the.uninvited. That’s the point.

It doesn’t seep in through a cracked window or a drafty attic. This cold crawls up the back of your neck while you’re standing in a room that should be warm. It’s the cold that arrives with someone—except no one has opened the door.

When I opened the door, the chair was still. The air was 72 degrees. But my breath fogged in front of my face. the.uninvited

But you do not owe hospitality to a haunting.

Draw the line. Speak the boundary. Let the silence that follows be the loudest thing in the room. But no one ever talks about the

The.Uninvited: When Silence Speaks Louder Than a Knock

There is a specific kind of cold that has nothing to do with winter. It doesn’t seep in through a cracked window

“You are not welcome here. This is my Tuesday. This is my silence. Leave the way you came.”