The Passed Note Issue 7 June 2018 | Page 35

guessed. You remembered me time after time. I should have known that something was wrong.”

I should have known I couldn’t have a friend.

I was shy when I was alive. I cared for people, but I kept quiet. I showed my affection through action. I was a dutiful daughter, a protective sister, a conscientious pupil.

In my work, I’m gentle and I try to be considerate. I’m still quiet, but it’s not a chatty profession. I don’t have much time with them to show them love. What if the old lady was wrong?

I don’t naturally make an impression on the living. I can speak to people or touch them, but they lose memory of me even seconds after our exchange. I have never made a meaningful impact on their lives. Not until Corbin.

His father was falling to cancer and had taken a turn for the worse. I came to collect him, but he held on that night. On my way out, I peeked into Corbin’s room. He was about the age at which I died, and I was curious. I couldn’t help myself. And he saw me.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I froze. I’d never encountered this before. He was unnerved, I could tell, but he didn’t run.

“I’m, um…” I stuttered, unable to think of a good lie.