Hello, Can You Please Stop Haunting Me?
vingt-cinq.
The aging man behind the counter of the lovely flower shop tucked in the corner of the hectic city smiled at Eliza thoughtfully as he wrapped the assortment of colorful flowers into a simple bouquet. Jeremy was watching her every move silently before slowly fading away. And for once, Eliza knew where he was going so she wasn't as worried as every other time he would disappear.
“For someone special, love?” He said with a slight English accent. Eliza nodded absent-mindedly.
“You can say.”
She handed him a few dollars and thanked him. Before she knew it, she was on the road again, gripping her steering wheel as she stared ahead. When she finally arrived at the destination around half an hour later, she stepped out of the car and took the flowers in her hand. The gentle breeze made the soft petals dance.
And so Eliza went forward.
Waiting for her was Jeremy. He floated a good two to three feet of the ground with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was staring fixatedly on something beneath him; his expression reverted back into sadness. In a way, Eliza thought as she kept moving at a swift pace, even though Jeremy laughed a lot with her there was always this emptiness in his eyes that showed as if he could never be happy, no matter how hard he laughed or how sweet his smile was.
“So tell me, how do you do it? Have you got awesome mind-reading powers when you’ve…” she trailed off, regretting her decision to open her mouth without thinking how to construct her sentence properly.
“Died? Maybe,” he said, grinning as he swooped down next to her. His feet were still not touching the ground. “Or maybe you’re just that…obvious.”
Eliza shrugged, crouched and set down the bouquet of flowers in front the tombstone that read ‘Jeremy Isaac Pike.’
“I heard that he was a nice dude,” he said solemnly. Eliza laughed and looked at him.
“He was. Still is.”
As they walked away from the tombstone, Jeremy’s eyes caught something familiar. Of course, there were thousands of other tombstones that looked almost the same in the graveyard. But the name engraved on it, he recognized it.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks.
“—and then there’s this horrible teacher who scolded us for no apparent reason— Jeremy?”
“He’s dead. Eliza, he’s dead.”
“For someone special, love?” He said with a slight English accent. Eliza nodded absent-mindedly.
“You can say.”
She handed him a few dollars and thanked him. Before she knew it, she was on the road again, gripping her steering wheel as she stared ahead. When she finally arrived at the destination around half an hour later, she stepped out of the car and took the flowers in her hand. The gentle breeze made the soft petals dance.
And so Eliza went forward.
Waiting for her was Jeremy. He floated a good two to three feet of the ground with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was staring fixatedly on something beneath him; his expression reverted back into sadness. In a way, Eliza thought as she kept moving at a swift pace, even though Jeremy laughed a lot with her there was always this emptiness in his eyes that showed as if he could never be happy, no matter how hard he laughed or how sweet his smile was.
“So tell me, how do you do it? Have you got awesome mind-reading powers when you’ve…” she trailed off, regretting her decision to open her mouth without thinking how to construct her sentence properly.
“Died? Maybe,” he said, grinning as he swooped down next to her. His feet were still not touching the ground. “Or maybe you’re just that…obvious.”
Eliza shrugged, crouched and set down the bouquet of flowers in front the tombstone that read ‘Jeremy Isaac Pike.’
“I heard that he was a nice dude,” he said solemnly. Eliza laughed and looked at him.
“He was. Still is.”
As they walked away from the tombstone, Jeremy’s eyes caught something familiar. Of course, there were thousands of other tombstones that looked almost the same in the graveyard. But the name engraved on it, he recognized it.
He stopped abruptly in his tracks.
“—and then there’s this horrible teacher who scolded us for no apparent reason— Jeremy?”
“He’s dead. Eliza, he’s dead.”
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