She walked back into the room and there was no doubt in her mind that it was haunted. The only flaw in the logic was that her ghost was the ghost of a living person and not one of the dead.
Elphaba's presence was everywhere. The bed was rumpled from where she had been running late and had not had the time to neatly make it. The closet was ajar. A few simple, dark dresses still hung there, forgotten. Her hairbrush sat on the bedside table with a black ribbon tied around the handle. Her boots sat at the end of the bed, where she had discarded them in favor of a lighter shoe.
It was all eerie, but what made her breath catch in her throat was sitting on the desk. A stack of books sat there, quietly waiting for their mistress to return. One page had been left open, and a notebook sat beside it. Her flowing, neat handwriting half filled the page. There was no sign that she would not be returning. There was too much unfinished bussiness.
Glinda crawled into her own bed and told herself that her roommate was merely on a latenight trip to the lavatory and would return soon.
She spent the night listening for her roommate to come home. She never did.