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“I’m afraid I have lived through not only the tragic platform shoe epidemic, the velvet blazer renaissance of the ‘70s, and the all-denim outfit trend. I’m no one who can judge.”

“Oh, sorry, that’s me,” the human said, picking up her phone that absolutely did not ring. She’d probably been wanting to get away from the ghost for a while but didn’t want to be rude. Regardless of how rude he was being to her.

“Good grief. What is that racket?” Rupert asked when a wailing sound drifted through the station. “Banshee?”

“Not shrill enough,” I said.

“Where is that not entirely tragically dressed manager?” Rupert asked.

The last thing Maggie needed was more work to deal with.

“Leave Maggie alone. I’ll find… oh.” I followed the sound to… a Rabbit’s Foot Fern? I’d noticed it there before, sitting in its terracotta pot behind the main desk, its fuzzy rhizomes clinging to it like its life depended on it.

But it had always been just a plant before.

Now, it was sobbing.

“Are you sentient?”

I’d come across several sentient objects in my time.

One was a Victorian fainting couch who encouraged melodrama at every turn and was known to whisper to women in hysterics to “do it, cry harder.”

Another was a cemetery gate that gossiped about all the ghosts that haunted the graveyard.

But a plant… a plant was a new one.

The plant didn’t answer. But with an audience, it just sobbed louder as one of its rhizomes moved outward, stroking the object beside it on the table.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Goodness gracious,” Maggie called. A second later, she came rushing forward with a large plastic pitcher almost overflowing with water. “It’s been off for all of five minutes,” she added as she pulled open the lid of the machine the plant was clinging to. She poured the water in, closed the lid, and a puff of mist came shooting out.

“It’s crying about the humidifier being off?”

“He’s got attachment issues,” Maggie said, exhaling hard. “He thinks he’s been emotionally abandoned when it shuts off. It’s a whole thing.” She exhaled hard. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“That color—” Rupert started.

“Rupert, did you know Declan is in the break room?” Maggie interrupted.

“Is he?” Rupert asked, his hand pressed to his heart. “Well, it would be rude for me not to say hello.”

“Totally rude,” Maggie agreed with a smirk. “Poor Declan,” she said when he was gone. “But I just couldn’t take another criticism about my outfits.”

“How did the plant become sentient?”

“He’s kind of only partially sentient, I think. He doesn’t really talk or anything. Just does the wailing thing when he is feeling dry. But remember what I told you about the witch who gave me the spelled earrings?”

“And nearly drove you insane? Yes.”

“Well, she was probably trying to do some sort of spell to make him always feel hydrated or something. But it backfired.”

“Did any of her spells go right?”

“Define ‘right,’” she said with a sweet smile. “Are you ready for our meeting?” she asked.

Her entire demeanor changed in a blink.