Chapter 58: The Rusted Swing
I walked towards her, slowly. My feet felt like they were stepping through the streets of a dead city. Cold floor, silent night—and there she was—Suhina.
"Suhina?" I called. There was a bit of nervousness in my voice, and a bit of hope too. But she said nothing. She stood there like life had forgotten her. Or like she had forgotten life.
Silent. Stone-like. Not a woman, but a statue of sorrow.
I wondered to myself—was it really her? Or some illusion born from death's leisure?
"Nonsense," I shook myself, "Ghosts don't exist. And even if they do, they don't drink tea."
Still, there was a strange unease in my heart. Like a wound hurting without being touched.
This time I spoke a bit louder, "Hey! What are you doing here?"
She trembled this time. As if someone had shaken her out of a deep sleep. Her eyes met mine, but there was no life in them. Only a question—deep and hollow.
"Why... why am I here?" she asked. Her voice sounded like a spirit had borrowed her body.