One year after our earthly repose, Father, Dabin and I are still newcomers, discovering something strange with every passing of each day. Not one of these goes by without wonder at where the other non-survivor is. Doubtless, that person is in one of those other “rooms” Afterlife is rumoured to have. Why she never ended up with us intrigues and slightly disturbs me. Was she a better person? Did she ever do anything for her to end up in a lesser plane?

I walk through one of the many roads twisting like knots of yarn in a basket, head down, knowing that the forces in this dimension will take me back home when I am needed. As I look up, the sight of a feminine figure with a sheet of blue-green covering her head gives me hope at an answer to my questions. She turns her head, her back unmoving, and her eyes offer a slight glint of recognition. A car stops, its owner briefly answering a call on his phone; the girl enters his car, fluidly moving through painted metal, and I understand. I follow, sitting next to her, eager with questions.

Something stumps me. It could be her hair, her silence, her overly welcoming looks; or it could be the air of melancholy blanketing her presence.

The car moves, and we stay still, watching the scenery pass swiftly as humans do in life. It is not an uncomfortable silence, and I am contented. Enchanted. I wonder why we met today, of all days. A glance at the car owner’s phone reveals the date, warming the ice that envelops the living world around us.

Christmas Day.

And two words cross my mind.