“Choi Junhong, eh…” I mumble under my breath; I find my eyes still glued to the name on the tombstone.

I could feel the Zelo guy’s gaze fixated upon me. All of a sudden I feel something in my stomach contracting in such painful sensation, that I clutch it with one hand. The heavy air. That familiar, heavy air I’m accustomed to feel whenever there’s a ghost. I glance at the boy, and I expect him to disappear any second now, but no. He stays. He’s here; he’s all solid and opaque, and I know—he’s tangible. He continues to eye me with this blank look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he queries, zero concern in his tone.

I do my hardest to stand up straight; I succeed, but still feel wobbly. “I’m not feeling well,”

“Aren’t you going home?”

I let out a snort through my nostrils. “This is where I feel home,”

“How so?”

I look over my shoulder. “See those two tombstones there?”

“Yeah?”

“They’re my parents.”

“Oh, so they’re dead already?” something in that speech makes me look at him in an abrupt turn of the head, to catch something on his expression—it hints surprise, and that surprise in his face is too intriguing to be dismissed. It’s like he knew something right but he was corrected.

“Well, yes.” I keep my voice steady.

His mouth that forms an ‘O’ shape now shuts. His eyes go small as he frowns. “Since when?”

“Just five years ago,”

“So who takes care of you now?”

Gritting my teeth behind closed mouth, I get angry at how tactless this boy is. “My aunt. But I live by myself,”

He plops his down on the grass, with the same listless expression on his once-curious face.

I observe him for a long while, waiting for him to say something. Anything. The chilly wind continues to blow, filling the empty gap caused by the glum peace. My eyes dart from the tombstone to this Zelo guy’s dreamy expression—there’s something in his face that hints certain sadness, but that sadness had lingered for a very long while that he seems to be very used to it now. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What do you want me to say?”

I shut my mouth.

He glances at me. “Heebin?”

I elevate my brows.

“Do you know him?” his thumb points the stone standing before us.

I shake my head with my lower lip jutting outward. “No I don’t.”

Suddenly, the corners of his mouth curl up and laughter—boisterous laughter—breaks out in the cemetery, and though it sounds like a jolly one, I could feel the gray fog thicken around us.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He forces himself to stop. “It’s getting dark. You should go home—or to your house,”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He shakes his head.

“If you really want me to leave, then—“ I harrumph, and swing my bag over my shoulder. “Then I will,” I stomp my way out, and I’ve tread a pretty far distance when he calls out—

“Heebin!”

I stop.

“Turn around,” he teases.

I gyrate my body, grunting.

“Come back tomorrow!”

I knit my brows. I won’t give a response to this. Instead I turn my body around once more, and walk out, never looking back again.

Later that evening, the lady ghost this morning shows up to me again. This time it is while I eat my dinner. The cold wind blows again, that I freeze, and it’s almost the same as the scenario of this morning. Only that now she’s crawling on the floor—yes, like that how you see on horror movies; and this will scare you—she crawls to my direction that I recoil. My breath is pitched short in my throat; my voice not finding its way out. My insides are shaking violently, my mind telling me to run away, but my body does not comply. There, there, there—in slow, agonizing motions she reaches out her slender, bony hand, with the obvious intention of grabbing me, but just when her hand is about to touch my ankle I hear a shrill voice echo across the room—a very high, very sharp, glass-breaking scream that it forces me to cover my ears, with my eyes shut tight. I don’t know how long it lasts but when I reopen my eyes and lower my defenses everything is back to normal. No lady ghost. No specter. Nothing to fear.

I stare back at my bowl, now not anymore hungry, and it makes me think when is this going to end?

***

During sleep, I find waking a very hard ordeal to do again. My dream this time comes in the form of a somewhat cartoonish scope; I have bunnies all over my dream but what’s odd is that they look like they’re drawn. Not that typical cutesy bunny you’d think of, but rather, something alien-like. There are bunnies all over the place—it feels like I’m the only human around. But ah—I am corrected, when I see someone approaching, a little girl with a party hat. She looks familiar. The little girl hands me a gift and says, oh so cheerily, “Happy birthday, Heebinnie!” and kisses my cheek. I look at her, puzzled, and then bam—I realize who it is.

“Gumawoyo, Bunhong,” I say, and that in itself is a surprise.

“Hihihihihihi,” she giggles, and whispers something in my ear; cupped mouth and incoherent words which I don’t really catch. What she says is a string of wor