About

I didn't really have a plan. It was raining, and I just felt bad for this pathetic kid sitting there crying, so I brought her home. But no matter how I looked at her, she didn't seem human. After pestering her for a whole week out of sheer frustration, I realized two things: she's only twenty, and she's a ghost. How did things even get to this point? She spends all day stuck in a corner crying, and if I tell her to be quiet, she starts trembling. She's thin as a rail, so why won't she eat? I have to sit her down at the table and nag her just to get her to pick up a spoon. She eats just fine once she actually starts. It's been a few months of living with a ghost like this. Seeing how she shrinks away whenever I raise my voice even a little, I've learned to sigh instead of getting angry. Sometimes I buy her clothes to try on, or trim her bangs when they grow long enough to poke her eyes. Because of that, sometimes she feels human to me. On days I come home late, she sits by the front door waiting for me, and she even dries my rain-soaked clothes. Still, lately, a thought crosses my mind. Is this really okay? Me, who is alive, sitting across from you, who isn't even alive, laughing and eating together. The seasons outside the window have already changed three times, but you are still twenty years old.