Merry Christmas from the Afterlife
I can see them when I sneak out from the basement, walk to the front of the house and peek into the windows like a pervert, but I cannot participate in their life. I can hear them occasionally talking about me, but the longer I’m down here, the less I come up in conversation. In another few days, I expect to hear the voice of a man telling Katie he’ll love Harry like he was his own just before he moves his shit into my house.
It’s easy to misconstrue something you hear or read. Do better by doing the harder work. Pay attention, take your time. And trust that the hard work really isn’t that hard.