I said “Dad?” like a question. Like I could possibly mistake him for someone else. I know exactly what you mean when you say you felt like you could touch him. He didn’t have that see-through quality you expect in a ghost.
He didn’t answer when I called him. Just held his index finger up to where his lips should have been. When we take a math test, Mr. Ellis hands out scrap paper. It’s this pulpy stuff that looks white at a glance, but when it hits your desk, it’s actually this sickly gray color. That’s what his hand looked like, making that gesture for silence.
I stayed quiet and waited to see what he’d do next, but he didn’t move. Didn’t come any closer, didn’t fade into the shadows. Just stood like a statue.
Then I woke up.
Until I read your note, I thought I’d imagined the whole th
