"I see you."
She says to the ghost of her husband that stands before her. Looking up at him as she sat on the bed provided by the psyche ward. In the room they checked her into a week ago.
"I've always been able to see you. I keep telling them but they won't believe me."
The ghost says nothing. His form is translucent and ethereal. He shines with the softest hue of Heaven's light. His form is lined in gold.
"I miss you," she whispers on the brink of tears.
He wraps his arms around her. Holding her tight as he buries his face into her shoulder. She hugs him back and a wave of warmth washes over her. A wave of peace.
I miss you too.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
To Write or Not to Write
De TodoIf a rock plops into a river... And if there is no one there to hear it. How do we knew if it hits the bottom? How do we know if it didn't throw itself back out? Or flow down the stream? Or... Does everything just hits rock bottom? Like me. ...
