A famous poet once wrote: "The line between life and death is shadowy and vague."
Thaniel never realized how thin that line truly was.
His girlfriend died three years ago.
He remembers everything—the numb silence at the funeral, the thud of earth on the coffin, the way her mother cried without sound. He was there. He saw the dirt cover her.
So why is she standing at his door?
A bolt of lightning lit up the distant tower, throwing the city into brief, stark contrast. Halgrave looked worse than usual, like the world had expired and someone forgot to throw it out.
The bloodied neon blue jacket stood out from the dark open-air corridor—a half-walled stretch of crumbling concrete that stared out at the city like a forgotten balcony to nowhere.
She stood there, caught in the flash. Same long, tangled hair he'd dreamt of strangling him in his sleep. Same shaky hands he remembered holding on walks through the park. Same soft voice that used to soothe him—and sometimes screamed in his nightmares.
"...Hey," she said, too casual. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Her bright grey eyes locked onto his. For a second, they seemed to glow, as his mind went blank.
'How did it lead to this?'
It had started like any other day. Or, at least, normal enough for someone like him.
It had been raining for days. Thaniel was at the stove, stirring instant ramen. One of his few remaining talents was cooking it in two and a half minutes instead of three.
Today, though? He took four.
He stared at the sad, deflated noodles in his bowl—noodles that somehow looked exactly like his mental health.
"Ah… overcooked."
He sat at the table meant for two and served two plates, even though there was only one portion. He didn't remember when that started. It was just... tradition now.
He looked down at his reflection in the shimmering broth. His usual eyebags stared back at him. He sighed, before picking up the chopsticks that someone once got for him, its handle end still unwashed.
He slurped slowly, his brain half-zoning out.
Earlier at work, someone had bled out by the vending machine. Again. It was tough being a janitor in a place where health code violations were just part of the décor.
He glanced at the crumpled bills on the counter. A few fives and exactly fifty cents.
Rent was due in a week. His wallet was empty. His soul, more so.
He had briefly considered holding his boss for ransom to pay a single bill. Decided against it only because it sounded like effort. Kind of shows how rotten the current economic state is.
He was just about to spiral into another midlife crisis—at age twenty-one—when he heard it.
The knock.
He didn't register it at first. Just three soft taps. Silence.
Then again.
Three knocks.
Slower this time.
Thaniel almost said her name… Before glancing at the empty chair gathering dust at the table, as he closed his eyes.
He stood. Walked to the door like it wasn't strange. Like he wasn't used to silence. Like he hadn't gone three years without anyone left to knock.
And then… Just as he hoped-
She was there.
"...Hey, are you listening? It's getting cold out here."
Her voice snapped him back. Reality stood still, like the universe was waiting for him to scream, collapse, or slam the door.
He did none of those.
Thaniel just blinked. Brain buffering.
"You're dead," he said flatly.
She shrugged. "Yeah. Got better."
A gust of wind blew past them, curling into the apartment like it, too, wanted to know what the hell was going on. Her hair danced in it, just like it did in that photo he kept in a drawer he never opened.
"Are you gonna let me in?" she asked, tilting her head. "Or do I have to haunt the hallway myself?"
Thaniel scanned her face. Something was wrong.
Her head tilted too far. Her smile didn't reach her eyes—it reached somewhere behind them. She hadn't blinked once. Her blue jacket and jeans seemed to be stained with blood, and both are a size too big.
He knew this wasn't normal. Knew he was probably about to be eaten.
And yet…
His body moved before his brain could stop it.
He stepped back. And closed his eyes.
'If this is a dream… Then I don't want to wake up.'
Everything fell silent as he opened them. The wind stopped. The rain paused. The world held its breath.
She smiled sweetly. Like she hadn't brutally died three years ago. Like she hadn't been buried six feet under in a city that barely remembered her name.
"...Thank you."
And whatever was wearing his dead girlfriend's skin stepped into his house.