I loved my adoptive father. Carvin Barrem would forever be my oxygen and my family, and I continued my search to find him. But now, I had just realized how much I had wanted to know this other part of me. That of blood and ancestors, the one who had simply given me life.
The fingers of the whitish, vaporous figure tried to stroke my mouth. I could only feel the gesture, without distinguishing anything else specific: whether it was his features, his eyes or even the arch of his lips. His face remained an unfathomable mystery.
At the time, I found it painful.
Who was I most like? Him? My mother? Neither of the two?
Or else I was just me: a child that had been raised in a loving home, but without really belonging to it.
Suddenly, at the speed of a blink, the ghostly being merged with the
