My son looked up at me from his bed.
"Daddy." He said. "I'm scared."
I sat down on the edge of his bed. He turned to face me.
"Scared?" I asked. "Of what?"
He sat up and looked around, as if he didn't want anyone to hear us and was convinced that there was someone in his room.
"Ghosts." He said. "I see them, dad."
"Look, there is no need for you to be scared of them. Ghosts don't exist."
"But dad," He said. "You're dead."
