A Ghost and a Writer Walk into a Bar in Prospect Heights
By Ryan Britt
Every third Wednesday, in the middle of the afternoon, the ghost of my Great Grandfather stops into to my favorite bar in Prospect Heights. Inconveniently for everyone, he always sits at the center stool, creating gaps on either side of him as nobody likes getting wet from the splashing beer falling through his translucent body.
April 28, 2010 Fiction, Reader in Residence











