A chill runs down Ace’s back, despite the warm weather all around. The gated mansion in front of him dwarfed him in size. Seeing it in person resurfaced memories in his head, stopping him from taking a step forward. 

The house itself was modeled after an old massive 19th century French villa. A gift Ace’s father had bought for his mother, to cure her home sickness. It had worked for a little while. 

Ace looked over the balconies where he would often hide from his Maman when playing hide and seek. And then his eyes drifted to a window on the second floor, hoping to see animal stickers plastered all over. The pure anger he felt at their disappearance is what forced his feet to move.  

“Merde”, he cursed under his breath. 

Movement caught his eye. He looked over to see the curtains on the guard booth move suddenly. He gritted his teeth as he buzzed the gate.

It took a second too long for someone to answer him. 

“Hello Young Master. It is a pleasure to see you once again”.

Ace turned his head to look directly at the intercom. 

“It doesn’t feel like it. You didn’t open the gates immediately upon my arrival”.

“Yes, apologies for that Young Sir. It is orders from the Master”.

“I’m here to speak with him”.

“I must apologize once again Young Sir, the Master is not here to meet with you”

He narrowed his eyes at the row of luxury cars in the driveway.

“His service car and business car are both here”.

There is a slight pause this time before an answer, “apologies Young Master, but he is not able to come to meet with you. He is occupied with other matters”.

“... of course he is. Tell him when he finds time to not ignore me, I want to talk about my maman”. 

There is another pause before the guard speaks up. 

“I shall pass on the message young sir”.

He turned to walk away, clenching his jaw. Stuffing his hands into his pocket, he makes a fist, digging his nails into his skin.

Behind him, on the second floor, a pair of curtains opened, revealing a well dressed man in a suit with hair slicked back. The man stared at Ace’s retreating back.

I made a promise. 

He sucked in air.

It’s okay to make promises. … It's okay. I’m going to be … okay. 

Standing in the entrance of his front door, he gripped the doorknob to turn it and stopped suddenly. He felt a presence somewhere. He turned around, looking around the small courtyard. He looked at all his neighbors’ doors, their lawns and the security gates. He didn’t see anything but the sinking feeling in his stomach got worse. He stepped away from his door to look out the railing and caught something in the corner of his eye.

He looked up and felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest. 

He didn’t dare to breathe or move an inch. 

There was a spirit perched on the roof, one he had never seen before. It looked like two tree trunks put together sticking out like a Y shape. It had multiple eyes up and down its body, all stuck on him. 

It blinked, its eyes closing one after another and opening one at a time. There was something in the middle of all the eyes, it looked like blood, even from this distance. The space between the eyes opened up, a tongue coming out and licking the red on it, closing its eyes as it did so.

Ace slowly let out his breath, trying to be as still as possible as he did it. 

It stood up, revealing its pale legs, so thin they looked like bones. The eyes opened up one by one. 

It continued to stare at him, even after it took off into the sky, its skin opened up like a parachute, lifting it further into the air. 

Once it was far in the sky, Ace sucked in a breath of air. He placed his hand over his heart, then his head. The lack of oxygen made him feel dizzy. He turned around, reaching his hand into his pocket and fumbling to find the key. He looked back into the sky, making sure the spirit was still lifting up, as his hand felt around blindly.

Feeling it, he jammed it into the lock and hoved his way inside, barely waiting for the door to be properly open. 

He slammed it shut, then shoved his body up against it as if it would help if the spirit really wanted to go after him. 

Catching his breath, he stood up despite the jelly feeling in his legs. He didn’t want Mr. Wilson to get worried after hearing the door slam. 

He took off his shoes and called out to the old man.

“Mr. Wilson? Sorry I slammed the door”.

He walked deeper into the small apartment, listening for the old man’s voice to say something back. 

Nothing came.

“Mr. Wilson? Are you sleeping?”.

He hadn’t seen the man sleep once since they had been living together but he wasn’t entirely sure what was and what wasn’t possible for spirits to do. He glanced into the living room where the elder man usually was but the tv was off.

He stood around, wracking his brain for answers. He turned to the kitchen and walked into it, looking around at every inch. Then he checked the bathroom and lastly his bedroom. All were empty.

Did Mr. Wilson go back to his own place?

Content to wait for his guest to come back, he went about his nightly routine. Heating up some store bought pasta and some already made rotisserie chicken, he sat in front of the tv and turned it on. Watching the cartoons Mr. Wilson had introduced to him, without the old man by his side felt weird. It had become a sort of pastime for the two of them. He never watched the tv before the older man stopped by. 

After dinner he showered and got into bed. His phone read 7:53 p.m. and the old man still hadn’t come back. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

The next day he woke up to silence. A quick once over the house confirmed his fear, he was alone. He stood in his kitchen, looking around at the apartment that felt familiar but empty and lonely. The few days he had company, he felt complete. Like he had someone who wanted to be around him. A complete 180 from his other roommate. 

He went about his day as normal. Cleaning up here and there, then heating up pre-made frozen meals from the store to eat. Around dinner time he searched online for jobs where he wouldn’t have a lot of contact with customers and he made another omelet. 

It took him a week to admit that either the Old Man had gone home to stay or moved onto whatever came after death. 

From there, it took him a day to come to terms with it and then he moved onto the next big obstacle of his life.