Can You See Me?

“Can you see me?” he whispered.

She continued with her chores silently, gliding like a dancer through the house. He followed her, broken, sometimes whispering, sometimes shouting, begging to be seen.

“You saw me when you were young,” he said, sitting down. “We talked, played. I still am here, a dream, invisible.”

The spirit sat upon the wooden stool, watching his ward flutter gracefully through the kitchen, softly landing at different stations like a butterfly. She beat the batter, she poured the batter, the pan went into the oven, and finally she came to the sink, washing the dishes silently.

He could no longer see himself today, and knew his time had come. Before the bell above the oven rang, before the cake was cooked or frosting laid, he dissipated into whatever ether dreams fall into, forgotten forever.

But still, as he forgot himself, he whispered to her, “Can you see me?”


  1. No. He is deaf and numb. She is blind and dumb. They are perfectly suited to be matched together, they are ghosts fated to haunt the other – until they learn the necessary lesson. Gravity without magnetism. Polarity indolent adolescence. Jaded and green, desperate to disappear. Aspirant of emptiness. The choice is yours as is theirs.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.