Unseen

-33-

He smiles at me lovingly before cupping my face with one hand. I lean in his hand, finding the contact so soothing and warm. Then I feel his lips on my forehead in a slow and calm kiss.

"Let's have lunch and then at night we can go to your house to see if we find your ashes," he proposes. I nod, pulling back completely because it's been long enough and he's getting too cold.

I follow him to a restaurant he picks, and to avoid making people stare, he wears his headphones and pretends to be talking on the phone, that way we can have a normal conversation even when we are outside. He asks for loads of food and I just sit across, watching him because I can't really share a meal with him. James asks me what I remember about my father but there isn't much. I don't even know if he has a new family. Maybe I have half siblings now, but I'll never find out. I don't even remember his name or what he did for a living, and if James asks me to describe him, I wouldn't be able to. The only image I have of him is from the pictures at home, but now even those are gone.

"Is it stupid that I feel sad because all my things are gone?" I ask out loud later in the afternoon. We've moved from the restaurant to that church where he took me before, just because it's pretty and quiet, and he doesn't need to wear the headphones.

"I don't think it's stupid, but it isn't really rational," he replies honestly.

I sigh, rounding my shoulders a bit. I bring my legs up, hugging them and resting my chin on top of them. "Mum made sure to keep everything as I left it, and now all that is gone. The clothes I couldn't wear, the toys I had when I was a kid, all my posters and notebooks, and everything I had." I look at him, hoping he can understand why I'm also sad for losing things I didn't even use anymore. "But what I miss the most are all those pictures I took when I was alive. There are gone forever."

I think he understands, or he tries to understand, because his eyes show sympathy, his lips curling in a sad smile.

"If it's true that we put a bit of ourselves in all the things we make, then it's normal to feel sad for losing them, considering that with that you are also losing a bit of ourselves," he tries to explain and I nod, following the logic in his words.

"I guess that by keeping my room my mum could pretend one day I'd come back from college, and I could pretend I still had a place in this world. Now all that is gone," I muse as I feel James arm wrapping around my shoulders, brining me closer to him. I rest my head on his shoulder, my eyes fixed on the space ahead.

We don't say anything else for a while, we just stay there until it starts getting dark and James too cold for holding me. I accompany him to get dinner, opportunity he uses to warm himself up, and once all that is done we head to my old house, which now is just debris and ashes.

On our way to my home—my old home—, we walk in silence. I have too many thoughts in my head as to keep a conversation and I guess James does not know how to break the ice. I'm not sure how I'll feel when I walk in. Last night I didn't focus much on my house, Mum consumed all my thoughts. I know I'm a ghost and I shouldn't have any attachment to material things, but how can anyone not feel attached to the place one lived for so long.

I feel really nervous when I'm in front of the house, which it burnt. It still has its normal shape, It doesn't look that terrible from outside. I'm not sure how Mum died, but I hope it wasn't burnt. I hope it had been intoxication for the fumes. I think that's more merciful.

There's no pot left, it broke, but I don't think I need a key to open the door. And I'm proved right when I just push the door and this opens for us. I can't walk in first, so it has to be James guiding me inside, taking my hand so I don't stay behind.