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Ghost of Gold
Carefully, very carefully, he dusted off the thin layer of gray around the golden sphere. Any time he pressed too hard on the fragile gold, he would curse unintelligible things under his breath. If it slipped even slightly in his hands, his heart would pound against his chest, threatening to burst.
He himself did not know what was happening to his body, why he was so tense, sensitive to every little sound or movement. He blamed it on the glowing gold ball that he held so delicately in his sweaty hands.
I watched him carefully from the corner, very carefully, so as not to disturb him. I smiled every time he scowled, chuckled to myself every time his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he tried to figure out what to do with the golden sphere.
I moved in closer, closer, closer to read his thoughts. The closer I got, the cleaer the transported words were. The closer I got, the louder his heartbeat sounded. The closer I got, the better I could sense his emotions.
I grinned as he spoke to the ball, failed; rotated the ball, failed; I was especially amused when he leant in and kissed the golden ball.
I was waiting for him to think of that one word, that one word that would reveal the gift that the mystical, golden sphere held.
I watched as his crystal-blue eyes filled with tears, his hands shaking in frustration.
It was time.
I rept closer, closer, closer. I crept carefully, very carefully, until my reflection appeared on the delicate gold.
"Mom..." he said, his head lifting up, crystal-blue eyes parallel to a certain picture on the wall; the picture taken the day before I died.
I blinked away my ghost tears as he let out his own, dropping his head to his hands, sobbing.
"I'm crazy... I'm crazy..." He murmured in-beteen sobs.
I tip-toed closer, closer, closer. I tip-toed carefully, very carefully, so as not to startle him. "You are not crazy," I said softly, smiling as he turned his head; smiling as his crystal-blue eyes met mine.
The minutes passed in a whirl. I grinned as he spoke to me, rotated me so that he could collapse into my arms; I was especially amused when he leant in to kiss my cheel, missing because of his blrurred vision.
The entire time, he was whisperig that one, magical word in disbelieff. "Mom, Mom, Mom..." I listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat, the joy in his every thought. "I missed you, Mom."
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