The Closest Thing To Talking

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I sit on the couch

and cry

because everything is so

confusing

and mixed up.

Suddenly,

the music stops.

Oh, no.

No, please,

don't go!

I shouldn't have

screamed

like that.

This isn't his fault.

Does he hate me now?

I stand up

and call his name.

"Jackson?

JACKSON!?"

"Please come back," I shriek,

crying and pacing.

"Please don't leave me

by myself!"

When I feel the cold air

flutter around me

like a butterfly's wings,

I know he's back,

and I collapse on the

couch in relief.


"I'm sorry for yelling, Jackson.

I didn't mean it."

There's a whisper

inside my head

so soft,

I almost don't hear the first words.

There are ghost rules, Ava.

I'm not allowed to answer your questions.

I don't want to keep you from your friends.

I'm sorry I got mad before.

More than anything,

I want you to be happy.

I love you, Ava.

Be happy.

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