First day of the first of two conferences brings me to San Jose. Today was load-in and it went well, but those are always long days. At every show I’ve worked there’s folks who show up late or not at all leaving their booth space noticeably empty. What if the empty booth was on purpose…

With sorting the pallets of booth equipment, unpacking, and setting everything up I didn’t notice the empty booth in the back corner of the expo floor until we were nearly done. Among the bright booths with multiple flashy screens, the bare table and empty ten-by-ten stood out like a missing tooth.

A little later I saw a tall man in a beautifully tailored suit place a flower on the table before turning and walking away.

One of the men from the next booth over saw me watching the man place the flower and offered in a conspiratorial tone, “It’s still touching, isn’t it?”

I looked at him and shook my head. “This is my first time working the OSC. Is what touching?”

“That’s Jacob Childs, chairman of the Open Systems Collective Foundation that puts on this show – he’s giving the keynote in a few hours.”

“Okay… so what’s with the flower?”

“That booth is always left empty. It’s a tribute to Harlan Chu.”

“Who?”

“This really is your first time at the show!”

“I’ve only been with this company for a few months…” I admitted.

“Harlan Chu started at a Bay Area hardware startup in the early aughts as a thermal engineer. Eventually he started his own company, Chu Systems. He had some radical ideas for cooling that he patented and tried to get investors in the early days of the show. In 2013 he had a heart attack in his hotel room the night before the conference opened – didn’t get a chance to set his booth up.”

“That’s terrible,” I said.

“It is. But a couple years later the startup he had left re-evaluated his patent and ended up incorporating the tech – it’s pretty much the de facto cooling solution used by all the major data center players. They leave his booth empty like that to honor his memory.”

“That’s really sweet,” I smiled.

My new friend nodded. “You don’t see that kind of tribute around here these days. That booth space is worth a small fortune, but his memory is worth more…”

Just at that moment the light wall on the far side of our booth started to list precariously and I hurried over to hold it while one of the guys stabilized it, abruptly ending the conversation. After that, we stowed our pallets and empty crates and finished tending to the gremlins that naturally infect any demonstrations. Before I knew it, we made our way to the main room for the keynote and then the mixer afterwards with snacks and beverages.

“Did we turn the displays off?” my boss asked.

“I don’t know – want me to check?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be right back,” I said as I started back to the other side of the massive conference center.

Earlier in the day, security checked badges to make sure we were signed up as exhibitors, but now the hall was deserted. Entering the cavernous expo hall with only the dim emergency lights casting a low pall on the dark booths, I made my way through the empty aisles. The already muted sound of the easy jazz in the mixer faded to nothing as I moved deeper into the hall.

Finally I reached our booth and I could see the giant panel that took up the entire west side of our booth glowing a dim black – we’d left it on. I unplugged the panel and started back.

“I was wondering if anyone was going to notice that was left on,” came a scratchy voice that caused me to jump.

“Sorry?” I said turning towards the voice.

“The screens. I was hoping someone would remember to turn them off,” he said.

I turned and saw an older man with salt and pepper hair sitting behind the table with a navy blue banner that read “Chu Systems” in white lettering. His short-sleeve button-down shirt was carelessly wrinkled, and his hands adjusted the blocky assembly of heat tubes and circuit boards on the table.

My blood froze as I stuttered, “It’s… It’s you…”

“Yeah, I’m here after hours,” he waved a hand in dismissal. “I got a late start this morning, so I need to make up time. Jake can come yell at me if he wants.”

Jake… Jacob Childs… head of the foundation. “I… I…”

He looked up at me and grinned an enigmatic smile. “Hey, how about we keep this between us?” He asked with a wink.

I could only nod.

“You should get back to the mixer, shouldn’t you?”

My feet got the idea and started along the aisle.

“See you tomorrow!” I heard behind me as my halting steps turned into a sprint.

I didn’t stop until I reached the still-crowded mixer. My boss asked, “We left them on, didn’t we?”

I just nodded.

“You okay?”

“Do you ever get that feeling you’ve met someone you couldn’t possibly have met?”

He just looked at me quizzically.

The next day before the show opened, I put a flower on the empty table.

My last job was at a building that was built in the late 90’s for that company, all steel and glass. So, when a co-worker told me he was working early one morning before anyone came in and watched a woman in a long white gown cross in front of his cubicle row and down towards the atrium before vanishing, the juxtaposition between this old-timey phantom and this space that still had its first coat of paint was jarring. I never saw anything in my 18 years at that place, despite some early-early mornings and late nights occasionally, but encountering the cleaning crew that would come in long after we were all supposed to be gone made me wonder what kind of stories they might have…

“Mirabel, can I have a word?” my boss, Delores, asked as I was helping my crew put our equipment away. It had been a long shift and I was ready to go home and check on my little boy.

“Yeah, absolutely,” I said, detouring into her office.

“I know you probably want to get out of here, so I’ll keep this short. A spot has opened on the crew that handles the Baylight Building on Montgomery…”

I’d only been at Golden West Facilities for a little over six months, so I’m still pretty low in the pecking order which means I get the jobs no one who’s been here longer wants. We’re talking after hours gym cleaning, warehouse restrooms with broken ventilation systems… you get the idea. By contrast, the fancy office buildings like the Baylight Building are considered peach assignments – not one I expected to be offered for some time.

My face must have shown my excitement because Delores put up a hand. “Don’t get too excited,” she warned. “It’s six stories and I need you on deep-clean for floors one to three.”

“Okay…” I asked hesitantly because I didn’t see what was so bad so far…

“This role has turned over quite a few times because…” she paused and rolled her eyes. “Because supposedly the third floor is haunted – if you believe in that stuff.”

I absolutely believed in that “stuff” but not enough to not take the position.

“Normally, I’d brush it off as overactive imaginations, but like I said, I’ve had a few people demand reassignments anywhere or outright quit because of this job and they all claim it’s haunted. So, I figured I should at least pass the word along and let you know before you take the role—”

“I’m in.” I said quickly.

Delores nodded slowly, “Okay, great. I’ll let Edgar know – he’s supervisor on that job. You’ll meet him tomorrow. No change in your schedule – that works for you, right? You’ve got a little boy, right?”

“Diego, yes,” I smiled thinking of him at home sleeping. “That works fine.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Mirabel.”

“Thank you!” I said and practically bounced out of the office.

The next evening I met Edgar – a laughing man in his fifties. “Did Delores explain your role?” he asked.

I shook my head, “Not beyond saying it’s haunted.”

Edgar’s jovial demeanor faded. “Yeah, well, that’s what they say. I haven’t personally seen anything, but there’s something on the third floor. You’re on deep clean for floors one through three. Joyce and Tina will start ahead of you on trashes, but you’ll be alone down there.” He made an effort to look me in the eyes. “Is that okay?”

I made sure to give a reassuring smile, “Totally fine, thank you.”

“Alright, then. You’ve got your radio. Check in when you move floors and let me know if you have any issues.”

I nodded and headed off for the first floor.

By the time I made it to the second floor, I realized why these buildings were prize assignments. The office workers were… easy. I mean, the men can’t seem to hit the urinals with any regularity, but that’s universal. But even the break rooms were minimal maintenance. The second floor was much like the first and before I knew it I keyed the radio to let Edgar know floor two was done and I was moving to floor three.

“Good luck, Mirabel,” he said unusually solemnly.

What had I gotten myself into?

The infamous third floor didn’t appear any different than the second floor. Only the minimal lights were on after hours – that might sound creepy, but it’s just part of working late. The building’s HVAC sounds more pronounced when there’s no one but you around and no office machines to distract. Honestly, I found it really peaceful, not scary.

I was vacuuming the main cubicle space when my vacuum abruptly stopped. I figured I’d pulled the power cord out, but when I traced it back to the outlet, I saw the plug still securely in the socket. Then, across the floor, the vacuum roared to life again. I rolled my eyes and kept going.

Halfway through mopping the men’s room, the water in the sinks turned on one at a time, ran for a few seconds, and then turned off. Then the toilets started flushing on their own. I’d just scrubbed them and was letting the cleanser sit while I mopped before flushing them myself, so I said out loud, “Thanks for doing that for me.” In response, the door I had propped open abruptly slammed shut. “Geez, you try to thank a ghost…” I mumbled under my breath.

While I wiped the long wooden table in the main conference room, the big television screen turned on. The company logo flashed up for a few moments before switching to a view of the sun setting over the bay as seen from the top floor of the building, except the view wasn’t right…

“That’s not,” I said aloud. “The shoreline is further back than that.” The view was clearly from a lower perspective and only a single road separated the viewer ostensibly on the top of this building and the lapping bay.

“That’s how it was,” a quiet voice answered.

I raised an eyebrow and responded, “Is this how it was for you?”

The apparition of a woman in high-necked cotton blouse and long dark skirt materialized next to the television, her eyes fixed on me in a menacing way. “Yes,” she said solemnly before grinning and saying – I swear to god – “Boo!”

I furrowed my brow, having never actually heard a ghost say something so… cliché. “Boo?” I asked.

“Boo!” the ghost repeated, though her smile had faded.

I tilted my head. “Does… does that usually work?”

“Always!” she said, a little disappointed. “You’re supposed to run screaming! Well, usually the bathroom gets them first. Only one woman made it to ‘Boo.’ But, my goodness, you should have seen her jump!”

I nodded thoughtfully, “I can imagine…”

“But… you? Nothing?”

I shook my head and sighed. “Sorry, no. You’re not my first ghost.”

“No?”

“Not remotely. That honor goes to my abuela.”

“Your…?”

“Grandmother.”

“Ah… well… this is awkward,” she said, steepling her fingers. “I… uh… don’t know what to do now. You’re supposed to be terrified.”

“So I’m told,” I responded. We stared at each other for a long moment. “I’m Mirabel,” I said, introducing myself.

“Clara,” she nodded back graciously.

“Pleased to meet you, Clara,” I said truthfully.

“It’s good to meet you, Mirabel…” she said hesitantly.

“May I ask how long you’ve been here?”

“Well, since all the people left. I couldn’t wait to see who they sent in this time. The last woman lasted almost a week – the tv got her,” she said pleased with herself.

“No, I meant how long have you been a ghost?”

“Oh…” she said, then thought about it. “Oh,” she said more seriously. She sat heavily in one of the conference chairs, staring into space, thinking. “Well… since the fire…” She looked up at me. “The buildings shook terribly. And then the fire came… I came back into the building because I thought my sister was still inside – we were both seamstresses here.” Her face took on that faraway look again. “She wasn’t up here, but by that point…” Her shoulders slumped.

I nodded. “You couldn’t make it back out?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “And I’ve been here – well, whatever has been here – ever since. Goodness, this is the most I’ve talked since before the fire!” A bright smile creased her translucent face.

“Well, Clara, I still have the rest of the floor to clean. Would you like to keep me company? I’d love to hear more about what you’ve seen and experienced.”

“Really?” she asked brightly.

“Absolutely,” I smiled back. “It gets lonely after hours.”

Lovely wedding today, small, but it still made for a long day. I’m ready for sleep… but first there’s a ghost story for you.

Every night, like clockwork, at 3:05 am, I hear a drawer open downstairs in the kitchen. I live alone. I don’t have pets; I lock my doors and windows. But even the first night after I moved in, the clock strikes 3:05am and I’m awakened by the distinctive sound of a drawer in the kitchen being opened.

Here’s the thing, though: it’s 3:05 in the damn morning. I’m tired. I don’t know if some ghost is looking for the silverware drawer or what, but if that’s the only thing they’re doing, I’m going to let them do it and I’m going back to sleep. And in the morning, all the drawers are closed – half the time I don’t remember I had woken up at all.

Fast forward to tonight. I can’t sleep, so I’m reading a romance novel on my Kindle in bed when I hear a drawer open downstairs in the kitchen. I look over at the clock and verify – yep, 3:05. Maybe it was because I was already awake, but I quietly climbed out of bed, threw on my robe and slippers and pat quietly down the stairs. I creep around the corner and into the hallway where I hit the light switch immediately.

In the kitchen, every single drawer and cabinet was wide open – except one drawer. I stare around at the cabinet doors hanging wide open, every drawer exposing its content as they extend from the counter at full extension. I reach the one closed drawer an touch the knob. Just a normal knob… I experimentally tug on the drawer pull and… it starts to slide open. This was a drawer I hadn’t yet filled, so I was a little surprised to see a white note inside the drawer.

I opened the drawer completely and took the note, folded in half. In neat handwriting it reads: “Thank you for finally looking.”

And then, all at once, every drawer and cabinet slams shut.