10-year-old Keith stepped up to the weathered front door of their new house, wrapping his small hand around the handle. He looked back towards the driveway where his dad was unloading boxes from his truck. "Dad, can I go in?" He called. His father looked over at him and smiled. "Sure, kiddo." He replied. Keith opened the door and stepped inside the empty house, carefully closing the door behind him. The first thing he noticed were the stairs. He curiously walked upstairs, running his fingertips over the dusty wooden railing. As he reached the top landing, he noticed that the temperature was lower than it had been on the staircase. As he looked around the room, he noticed a box in the corner. He walked over to it, reading the sloppy handwriting on the side. "Lance's Legos." He read, sounding out the words like his dad had taught him. His face lit up. "Ooh, Legos!" He pulled the box out into the middle of the floor and opened it up. Inside, there were a bunch of legos, along with instructions for the different sets and a ziploc bag filled with Lego figures. "Hey, those are mine." A voice said behind him. He turned around to see a boy about the same age as him sitting in mid-air with his arms crossed. Keith blinked. "Wait, you're Lance?" Lance nodded. "How are you doing that? The floating thing?" Keith asked. Lance shrugged. "I've been able to do it ever since I died." He said casually. "Wait, you're dead? Why aren't you all bloody and evil and stuff? Aren't ghosts supposed to be evil?" Keith was genuinely confused at this point. Lance blinked. "Wait, you're not afraid of me? You're not gonna scream and run away?" He asked. Keith laughed. "You're not even scary!" Lance smiled. "Keith! Come help me with these boxes!" Keith's dad called. "Coming!" Keith replied. He stood up and gave Lance a smile. "Oh Lance, when I'm done helping my dad, we can build a tower together if you want." He said. Lance smiled. "Sounds good to me, Keith."
