"Would you like to see her?".
I blinked and returned to the harsh reality. I felt an urge to laugh, to scoff at this senile man – I wouldn't be surprised if he himself were to fall on the spot and sink into the earth, joining the thousands of others in an infinite state of rest. However, his facial expression seemed eerily serious and I sensed no intention of jest in his voice. But to raise the dead to life? Even Jesus could not resurrect someone who was miles away from Himself.
I shook my head and chuckled. "Do what you can old man, but I don't see any smoke and mirrors around here.".
But before my head came to a stop, before my lips could utter the last of my words, there she was: Abigail, the child from years ago who passed away on a glowing summer evening, stood in front of me. I reached out to hold her, but the old man caught my hand.
"You may only speak," he explained. "They are but specters, wisps, images. They are not mirages, for they are truly the ones you seek, but they cannot be held, for they hold no more presence in this world. They are not alive, but not dead – simply alive in a different state.".
I looked back at her. She returned my gaze and I was twelve again.
"Hey Pete, how ya been?" she asked. She beamed and her smile brought me to tears. It had been so long and I had accepted the fact that I would never be able to speak with her again, yet here she was as if nothing had changed.
"Two minutes," the old man whispered. "They have other places to go as well. Just know that there will never be a next time, so make peace right now if peace need be made.".
"Abby.".
My voice was unrecognizable at first, but I realized that not only did my physical appearance change, but so did my entire being.
"She wouldn't be able to recognize you otherwise," he explained. "Remember that the last time she saw you was when you were still twelve years old.
