When Dominic returned to his parents' grave the next day, an unexpected and potent emptiness greeted him where flowers once stood.

The once vibrant declaration of sympathy through colorful floral tributes was replaced by earthy tones of loose soil, a testament to Dominic's violent and frequent uprooting. It carried the freshness of morning dew, the remnants of rainfall aiding in the sight's dejected state.

As dawn gently lifted the veil of night, brushing the sky with hues of blue and orange and ushering in the morning light, Maybourne Cemetery, wrapped in tranquil silence bore witness to Dominic's return.

It was as if nature itself mourned in unison with him.

The smudge beside Dominic's mother's name had also been wiped clean, the bareness of the grave prompting him to recall the first day Marcus and Lily Gray had taken Maybourne as their new home.

Kneeling before the tombstone, he carefully traced each engraved letter with a trembling hand. Tears welled up, escaping the confines of his water line. And he tilted his head up in a futile attempt to stop their descent.

How he wished they were still here. Longing for the simplicity of a normal life again. He wished he knew how to overcome this crippling feeling and the overwhelming loneliness that came with it.

A subtle movement in his peripheral had caught his attention, compelling him to glance upwards. There, in the distance, Celia stood before a grave, positioned northward from the oak tree and several paces from where he crouched.

She couldn't see him as he knelt down, and he watched as the morning breeze played with her uniform causing it to flutter gently.

The pleats of her navy blue skirt were slightly ruffled, and the white buttoned-up shirt, typical of St. Peter's girls, remained partially untucked, the other side hanging loosely. The red tie bearing their school's crest was absent from her neck granting him a view to another beauty mark atop her chest.

As Dominic recalled, this was exactly how she wore her uniform yesterday too. This subtle defiance against the pompous customs of St. Peters had intrigued him as he watched the wind cast her hair behind her.

She delicately brushed a tear from her face before kneeling, hugging her knees as if creating a protective cocoon of solitude.

In this unique moment of what Dominic considered 'shared grief', his heart bowed at her forlorn condition, recalling the sincerity in her strange gesture of comfort that she so readily exhibited to him, a stranger.

He rose from the ground, compelled to approach her. Finally standing beside her, he caught a flicker of surprise in her expression before she too stood and both of them directed their gazes to the tombstone that had left her in tears.

There were wildflowers adorning this grave, a burst of color against the somber backdrop of Maybourne. The first name had been diligently carved out as if someone had painstakingly scraped each letter away, leaving only "Wynter" visible.

"She was my sister," Celia stated, answering his unasked question. Her voice trembled as she fought to hold back tears. "She was 17 when she died."

His gaze shifted between her and the gravestone, the familiar pang of heartache making their daily rounds inside his head.

"Born September 5th, 1988, died September 5th, 2005. On her birthday no less," each word hanging heavily in the air.

"What happened?" Dominic mustered, her melancholy contagious.

"I don't remember," her face twisted, as if trying to recall a distant memory.

"How old were you?" Dominic gently pressed, his curiosity battling his empathy.

She looked at him, her eyes searching every inch of his face as a complex mixture of emotions swirled within her gaze.

"It's none of my business, you're right," he conceded, realizing that he may have probed too deeply.

"It's okay," she responded. "It's all just difficult to recall. Difficult to talk about."

"Trust me, I know," Dominic said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The weight of unspoken memories, untold stories, and shared grief lingered between them, enveloping the graveyard in a shared silence.

"They were your parents right?" She broke the quietude.

He looked at her, amusement dancing in his eyes despite the gravity of the topic. "What? You mean the graves you so elegantly defiled?" He quipped, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips.

Her laughter rang out, lighting up her face as her eyes sparkled with mirth.

"You're never gonna let me live that down are you?" She questioned, the shared moment of humor bringing a bit of warmth to the morning air.

"Probably not," he retorted.

A brief pause followed his words as they both lost themselves in the moment. Then Dominic decided to speak again.

"You know the townsfolk are convinced these flowers manifested from thin air. A pity they don't know the rebellious, catholic school girl honing her gardening skills on their loved ones," he teased.

A smile lit up her features, her beauty mark rising as her cheeks swelled. He watched as she placed her hands on her hips, a gesture filled with confidence before letting them fall to her side. Eventually, she crossed her arms over her chest as if embracing the mystery she had cultivated.

"Maybe they are right," she mused. "Maybe they did bloom overnight."

"Your secret's safe with me," he assured her, a sly grin playing on his lips. "But aren't you going to be late for school?"

Dominic could not believe he was smiling, a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time. He enjoyed their brief conversation. And for a moment, he felt like himself again.

"And you late for work?" She pointed to the Gillymart logo on his hoodie.

Glancing at his watch, Dominic realized it was already 7 am. Considering the 15-minute walk back to his van and a subsequent 20-minute drive to work, her observation was indeed right.

The memory of Key and their bizarre encounter flickered in his mind but he hesitated to bring it up, not wanting to ruin the newfound ease of their conversation.

He stooped to pick a poppy, its vibrant color catching his eye. Carefully, he tucked the flower in her hair, his fingers gently brushing the gelid skin of her right ear.

"Feel better," he called back to her, the words hanging in the morning air as he started to jog away from the cemetery.

Her faint response barely reached him as he crossed the gates, but he caught her words - "you too" - a soft echo that lingered in his ear.

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Work was the usual bore. It trudged on, the recurrent sound of beeping scanners and the rustle of items sliding across the counter elicited several sighs from Dominic as he finished scanning his hundredth item of the day.

It was only the second week of September yet the store was already flooded with shoppers grabbing early Halloween decorations.

The sight of spooky decor made Dominic cringe. If he saw another pumpkin, he was sure he'd go mad.

Occasionally, last night's conversation with Key lingered in his mind. The idea of someone being a ghost seemed absurd. Accepting such a reality would mean he was no different than the townsfolk who often participated in foolish drivel.

As he scanned the items of his last customer, he wondered if a visit to the therapist his boss had recommended wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"I'm taking my lunch break now," Dominic informed Steve, his perpetually disinterested co-worker and senior of 10 years.

"Yeah, whatever," Steve mumbled in response, but Dominic paid little attention.

Cashing out a Honey Bun and Coke for himself, Dominic made his way outside, heading towards the front of the alleyway where everyone usually took their smoke breaks.

Gillymart was the last store in the downtown plaza of Greenville, with an alleyway neatly dividing it from the adjacent flower shop.

In the heart of Arkansas, Greenville was a 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind' of town. It was nestled away, a place so inconspicuous that if you weren't actively heading here, you'd never stumble upon its existence. At any rate, compared to the vibrant downtowns of other places, Greenville's was more of a quaint joke.

Dominic cracked open the can of Coke, taking a large gulp before idly turning to gaze at the supermarket's wall.

The space had transformed into an impromptu advertising spot, adorned with flyers seeking babysitters and dog walkers, stapled haphazardly atop each other, occasionally interrupted by a missing person poster.

He found irony in such notices in a place like Greenville, a town seemingly isolated and unobtrusive. The vast emptiness around could be the ideal environment for unexpected incidents, though, Dominic couldn't quite fathom how anyone could go missing in this small town.

"How can you eat right here? It stinks!" the familiar voice of Key boomed from behind him.

Spitting out the drink, Dominic coughed roughly, prompting Key to pat his back.

"How the-" Dominic croaked. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Key clenched his fist, casually pointing his thumb behind him.

"There's a hostel down the alley. Though, not many people know about it," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Are you still following me?" Dominic accused, still recovering from his coughing fit.

"No! I just saw you by coincidence. I knew we'd see each other again," Key beamed back, his face reflecting enthusiasm.

Rolling his eyes, Dominic bit into his Honey Bun, the cold air nipping at his face.

"Why are you eating outside in the cold?" Key asked.

"Because I wanted to be alone but obviously that isn't working out," Dominic said, shifting uncomfortably on the chilly pavement. "Besides, I didn't know ghosts sleep. Why would you need a hostel?"

"Just because I may be dead doesn't mean I'm not sentient. Besides, I'm tired of walking around. You know how long it took me to get here from your house?" His cold breath was visible as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

"I really don't care, Key," Dominic admitted, glancing at the flyers on the wall.

"Well, you should. You threw me out last night," Key accused.

"Yeah, because you came into my house claiming to be a ghost!" Dominic's irritation was evident.

"You okay, Nic?"  Dominic's boss questioned, his eyebrows slanting in a furrow as he stared at him.

The automatic doors of the supermarket waited for him to enter, his concern evident as he remained outside.

"Who're you talking to?" He asked after a beat.

"Nobody. Yeah, I'm fine, Martin. Just...singing," Dominic lied.

"Oh, okay," Martin responded, his face disbelieving.
"Take an extra 30 okay?" He told him, disappearing into the warmth of the supermarket.

"He can't see you either," Dominic's tone was hushed.

"I told you..." Key began but Dominic had tuned him out, his mind whirring as he grappled once more with the nature of this strange phenomenon.

He was sure Joel had looked straight at Key last night. And today, Key was standing in front of him. There was no logical reason why Martin couldn't have seen him.

The exit doors to the supermarket opened, revealing an irked Steve. Without hesitation, he fished a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up as he approached Dominic.

"Still eating that sugary shit, huh?" He teased. "Man, I wish I still had your metabolism. One of those would have me on diabetes medication in no time."

Key laughed, giving Dominic's shoulder a light slap.

"He's a funny one," Key remarked.

"Do you think I'm the only person here?" Dominic asked, his tone serious.

Steve took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke before replying, puzzled by the question.

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't see this guy in the crocodile shirt beside me?" Dominic's tone grew more adamant.

"Are you-" Steve began, glancing around as if ensuring the seclusion of their conversation. "Are you on that shit? You know, that thing the kids are doing these days?"

"What? No!" Dominic protested.

"So what the hell are you talking about? We're the only ones standing here right now," Steve said, dropping the remainder of his cigarette on the ground before extinguishing it with a stomp.

Steve took a final skeptical glance around them and even down the alley as if partially convinced that someone was indeed present.  The pungent scent of stale cigarettes lingered in the air, accompanied by the occasional sound of rats behind the dumpster. Confirming their isolation, Steve's attention returned fully to Dominic.

"Yeah, you really need that extra 30," Steve shook his head, heading back inside the supermarket.

Reality started to settle in fast as Dominic surveyed the gritty alley where discarded remnants of downtown Greenville coexisted with deceptive warmth that belied the chilly undertones of the evening sun.

"I really am crazy," Dominic murmured, the remainder of his Honey Bun and Coke falling from his hands.

"You're not crazy. Just stubborn," Key said, picking up the items and discarding them in the grimy dumpster nearby. His actions were smooth, almost too normal for someone who shouldn't be able to interact with the physical world.

"How are you doing that? If you're a ghost, how are you picking stuff up?" Dominic questioned, his confusion deepening as his voice held a desperate edge.

Key paused, considering his own abilities with a newfound curiosity. "I honestly don't know either. I just can. I couldn't before when I woke up but these days I feel a lot more.. here."

"This isn't happening," Dominic muttered, the edges of panic threatening to engulf him entirely.

A real-life ghost in his midst. Someone who only he could see. Surely this was more than enough reason to see that therapist now.

"Hey, isn't that your Grandfather?" Key asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Dominic caught sight of Joel stepping out of the flower shop, a can clasped in his hand as he surveyed his surroundings. Without a word, Dominic tugged at Key's arm, guiding them into the alley where they took cover behind the dumpster. There, they observed Joel's truck in the plaza's parking lot.

They watched as he opened the door, placing the can on his passenger seat before settling into the driver's side.

"Why are we hiding?" Key whispered in confusion.

Dominic remained silent as he watched his grandfather's engine roar to life, speeding out of the parking lot and driving away in the direction opposite to their home.

Dominic was unsure why he felt like hiding. Perhaps it was the instinctive urge or impulse to stay out of sight or just plain curiosity about Joel's actions.

After he had left, Key ventured over to the spot where his truck was parked, retrieving a piece of silver jewelry from the ground.

"I think he dropped this," Key said, handing it to Dominic who was now approaching him.

Dominic immediately recognized the charm bracelet- a charming keepsake that belonged to his mother. The star and a moon charms dangling from it were both embellished with intricately laid blue gems that shimmered brilliantly under the sunlight.

"I know this bracelet," Dominic said, holding it up for further inspection. "This was my mom's. She said Dad had given it to her on their first date. I thought she got buried with this."

Key staggered slightly, almost losing his balance.

Instinctively, Dominic reached out, supporting him with one arm.

"You alright?" He asked worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just that another memory came back to me," Key said, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"I remember buying that bracelet."

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