Geneva

"Wait!"

Death called out to the ghost who was about to go in. The ghost looked back confused at them.

"Yes?"

"Wait a minute," Death held his hand up and sat down on the kid's bed. They looked up and removed their hood. The ghost saw it.

Death looks like the person you most want to see.

The one you want to see again but could not.

"What do you see?"

The ghost gulped down his throat. No saliva but he felt it clearly.

"You've been starting to be able to hold things again."

Death looked at him seriously. The person the ghost was seeing held a look he knew all too well. He knew how serious that person could be. How serious their eyes could be.

He remembered that look.

"Che!"

"Oh?"

The kid shouted from the second floor.

The house was old. It had those old stone walls. Painted cream for the cleanliness they said it'd bring out of them, they were quite ugly for the kid's eyes. He felt them with his fingertips as he went down the stairs. Creaking at every step, the kid chanced a look from the opening leading to the living room just below him.

He heard a man.

He knew who that man was.

Baritone voice, the voice was easy to recognize.

His uncle.

"Oh, come down from there," his grandmother called to him. She was slightly smiling out towards him. "Come meet your Uncle."

The uncle wore a knowing smile at him. The kid just let out a small breath.

'Here goes nothing.'

"Your uncle was talking about a job for you," his grandmother started. He sighed to himself. He prompted himself to look the least bit interested and thankful. He felt as if he was drowning. Drowning in his own sadness as he felt he lost bit by bit, inch by inch of his own self in the conversation.

He knew this feeling.

It was like his soul was escaping from himself. Towards where you might ask. He never knew but it felt like the world was spinning inside his own self.

Drowning.

"He says it pays well."

Drowning.

"You know, this economy's not getting any better."

Drowning.

"I know you have your heart set on something else."

Drowning.

"Searching for a job on your own is stupid at this point."

Drowning.

"Yeah, I see that he's stubborn in himself."

Drowning.

"He is quite stubborn but I know he'll make it somehow."

"Are you okay?"

The ghost looked at Death.

They were standing in front of him. The hood was back on. He couldn't see his face — well, the face of someone he wanted to see for a long time.

He stared blankly at them.

"You sure, you okay?"

Death didn't come closer to him as he just looked at him. He was back to his own awareness.

"Kid?"

"Where is this place we going?"

Snappy.

The ghost looked at them one last time and went to the corner of the room. It didn't look like it had a corner at all. The room was filled with items you wouldn't really buy in bulk but they were all here.

Washed-out CDs.

Books and figurines stacked up on the poor bookshelf.

The kid's clothes on the opened luggage.

A handful of phone chargers just lazily thrown on top of the clothes.

Rumpled clothes.

He reached out for a bag on the corner and held it out. He sized it up for their trip. The kid has to wear something out there. Wherever that is.

Large enough.

Death only sighed from behind him.

He placed any clothing that he got his hands on and put it inside the bag. He reached out for the chargers but Death stopped him.

"You won't be needing them," he lowered the ghost's right hand. "No phones needed where you'll be going."

The ghost sighed and dropped it on the pile of clothes below them.

"Where are we going exactly?"

The ghost didn't look up as Death stood beside him. He just grabbed any clothing he could get. Even the used clothes. He figured if they're traveling, they'd be at least a washer somewhere there. Or he could hand laundry all his clothes if he became really pissed at the kid.

"Why didn't you say yes to that offer, Archie?"

He picked up a pair of used underwear from the pile and just cringed at the sight. He threw it back on the pile and just continued picking out his clothes.

"I—"

He sighed.

"Archie—"

Looking inside the bag, he saw it was full of clothes already. Brimming to the hems, to say the least.

He sighed.

"I hate this," he whispered to himself. Death could hear him.

Death could hear everything.

He just sighed after that. Looking gaunt as memories flooded him again. He hated the fact that even in death, he was still haunted by his own life.

"You can't escape it forever."

The ghost knew that.

"You don't need to remind me of that," he said in passing. He pulled the zipper up. He hugged the bag to his chest and walked towards the door.

Then, Death held him back by grabbing his left arm. He looked back.

Death looked normal. Like the normal grim reaper imagery. Tall and hooded in black robes, they looked menacing to almost all people but he looked sad looking at him.

"What?"

He asked them. He can't see what Death looked like under the hood but he could feel sadness.

Like they were sad for him.

Like they were pitying him.

He sighed.

He went back to the bed and sat there. Death did the same to his left.

"Let him enjoy that place first," Death said quietly. Then, silence enveloped everything around them.

"Lola," the kid said. The old woman looked up from the cradling seat facing the large door. The door was open and the breeze was coming inside.

"I don't want to get with my uncle's offer."

Silence.

"Are you at least searching for a job?"

He nodded. The old woman sighed then, she gave him a pig's smile – closed lips yet in a smile. He gave her one back.

"I'm just here," the woman called after him as he turned away.

"If you need me."

He held the bag tighter to his chest. His eyes were gaunt as he stared into the nothing down in front of him. Death only sat beside him silently. They figured it'd be best to just be there simply silent yet present in a moment of pain.

Looking back towards the ghost. There were no tears from the ghost. He was just a kid still. He looked like one.

His pain was that of one.

"What happens when we enter that door?"

The ghost didn't look at Death when he asked this.

"Whatever you both want to happen," Death only replied calmly.

Silence.

"If you both choose it," Death added.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

All thoughts were racing inside his head. He was dead but everything was very much alive and breathing and raging inside that pretty little head of his.

"I have to get this and get outta here."

He stood up and walked towards the door. Death's eyes followed him. Death pitied the kid in front of him now.

They sighed to themselves.

Death stood up and stood behind the ghost. The ghost was holding the doorknob and waiting.

Hesitating.

"Let go."

He whispered it onto the air. The breeze from the side of the house was comforting. He stood under the giant tree. It was a Santol tree.

It sounded wonderful for the ears as the breeze took its branches and danced with it in the moonlight.

He whistled into the air of the night. The dog simply sat by his feet. It too was staring intently at the tree. He squatted down and caressed the head of the dog.

"I wish life was easier," he said. A few tears were escaping his eyes. Each one he blinked away. "I wish life was better."

The dog looked at him. They were staring at each other.

He knew the dog can never understand him. He was just there because he was the closest thing to the dog. The dog didn't have a lot of attention from its owner. The owner was always busy with life. This situation made the dog need a friend, and the kid was just there – incidentally.

War buddies.

Yeah, that.

He whistled again and the breeze gained speed before it all died down slowly until only a whiff of air was felt around him.

He sighed.

"What do I plan to do now?"

He let out a muffled giggle. It was void of fun. It was spiteful.

No—

It was resentful.

Not to anyone.

But to someone he knew but barely did.

The dog raised its front paws on his right thigh and attempted to lick him. The kid shooed him back down. He let out a smile. This time it was genuine. Maybe, the dog did understand him. Even for a little bit.

He was thankful for that even if it was just some random gesture from a canine most likely.

He rubbed its head and it leaned towards his right hand, closing its eyes and smiling in pleasure. He smiled at the dog too.

'I wish everything was this comfortable every time,' he thought. He looked up to the crescent of the moon.

'I really wish so.'

He pulled open the door and a bright light blinded him for a moment. Then, everything became clear.

"This is shit."

He looked back but Death was gone.

He was alone again with the kid.

"Hey, ghostie!"

The kid called to him from the back. He saw him in his sweatpants — topless. He sighed again.

The kid snickered when he saw the irritated expression on the ghost's face.

"C'mon outside," he called to the ghost, who was still taking it all in. "This is fun."

"I fucking hope so."