The streets were lit by rows of lamps, cold breeze was whistling softly in the hollows and snowflakes were falling from the sky kissing the ground and everything in between.
A transparent silhouette was gliding silently on the snow kissed pavement, peeking through the frosted windows of the houses aligned by the street. It had been a usual habit for him to come out of the hollow he had taken refuge in when night fell and everyone returned to their homes.
It was a routine for him to glide across the misty alleyways completely unnoticed glancing through the glass at families spending time together happily. More so on holidays such as Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving and Halloween.
Seeing those families, he would always wonder what it would have been like if he had a family too. People to call his own, people to celebrate with, to share joy and sorrow with, to be with in every event of life. And yet now all this held no possible meaning for him. Life itself seemed to be a dream long forgotten.
He gently pressed his hand on the frosted glass knowing that it would leave no impact for his touch was always indifferent on material things. No mark, no stain, no apparent evidence of him placing his hand there.
For him it had been like that for centuries. Centuries since the day he had died. The family inside was crowded round the Christmas tree, all dressed in warm furs and woolen coats to keep out the cold, huddled together singing cheerful hymns as the elderly father instructed. Dinner had been over, the tables had been cleared and it was just the happy family and their Christmas celebration time.
He pressed closer to the window to see clearly. He could make out a few children, all merry and healthy, a woman and her husband smiling proudly at their kids, a girl reading out from the Bible and the old man and woman telling stories of Christ the Savior. A very peaceful atmosphere indeed. The atmosphere which he longed to be a part of.
He knew he would keep staring until the lights would dim, the people would get up and retreat to their rooms for sleep and there would be inevitable darkness in the cheerful living room. He had accepted this one fact like the back of his transparent hand: after day comes the night, after light comes the dark, after life comes death. But what happens after death? He had no idea.
Soon the family he had been staring at decided it was time for bed. He watched until the lights dimmed and soon there was nothing but darkness.
And when the lights go out, there is nothing for him to stare at any more. When the lights go out, he knows it is time to go back to his hollow, all alone with no one else for company, just pondering on the unanswerable question of why he was still stuck here.
***