Honey, I’m home! Death crowed.

  Ever ignored his teacher. He floated in the doorway of the old treehouse. It had kept remarkably well for a structure decades old.

  “Hello.” Ever greet. She spun, her hair and one piece summer dress flowing with her. “Agatha, is it?”

  “Yes mister…”

  “Ever is fine.”

  “Mister Ever.” She dipped her head and curtsied.

  Aaah a ghost with manners. She must be an old soul.

  Ever smiled, letting the warmth of the simple act spread through his transparent form. What had Taylor said all those weeks ago? That smiling also made you feel happy? He wasn’t sure why this soul in particular drew the smile from him so easily, but he wasn’t going to overthink it.

  He approached her, keeping his eyes on the mark on the wall she was touching so as to not frighten her. It had ‘G.R. for A.S.’ scratched into the timber, with an angular looking heart enclosing the pair of initials.

  “I’m guessing ‘A.S.’ is you then?” Ever surmised, raising his hand to run his fingers over the message, only for his hand to pass through the wood.

  “Yes sir. George and I were here in this treehouse many summers ago. It’s where we first kissed," she said shyly. She would have blushed if she could have.

  Ever smiled faintly. He put his right arm out and summoned the scythe. The air pulsed once, twice and after the third time, a puff of smoke. The mythical tool was in his hand once more.

  Agatha’s eyes went wide. Ever laid it on the ground, where it hovered in front of them. “Don’t worry, I won’t send you to the Underworld if you’re not ready yet.”

  “Mister Ever, how do I know when I’m ready?”

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  Ever sat down and crossed his legs, an inch above the ground. His thoughts went back earlier in the day to what Chaos said. When he first died and passed to the Underworld, how did he know he had been ready?

  “You talk to me, tell me why you’re still on Earth. The scythe is listening too,” he tapped the tool on the blade. “It will turn into something that lets you connect with the human realm one more time before you go.”

  Agatha joined Ever on the ground, sitting opposite him. She tucked her dress in around her knees. “Is it alive?”

  “Not quite, but it’s very powerful.”

  She reached out tentatively then suddenly looked up.

  “He’s here!” She zipped out of the treehouse window like a silvery sheet caught in a gust. Ever picked up the scythe and followed. He found her sitting on her tombstone, fixated on a man. He was very old and sitting in a wheelchair. His carer had given him some privacy, stepping away to meander amongst the headstones, hands behind his back.

  “Agie,” the old man croaked. “How I wished I hadn’t left you for the war.”

  Agatha lowered her head. “Georgie, you left me once, but you’ve kept coming back for me, year after year. I…” She floated up to him, inches from his face. “I wish you hadn’t. You deserved to be happy with someone else.”

  George’s closed his crinkled eyes. “Come back to me, Agie.”

  The scythe reacted and the sense menu appeared:

  SENSES

  —--

  —--

  Touch

  —--

  —--

  “Agatha,” Ever said gently. “I can help both of you. But if you want him to let you go, you have to let go first.”

  Agatha clutched her fist to her breast. The twilight was fast disappearing; George’s carer was looking at his watch and making his way back.

  “I’ll do it,” she whispered. She placed her ghostly hands on George’s cheeks, her body floating horizontally. Ever nodded, gazing upon the scythe and invoking the ‘Touch’ option.

  George took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. “Agie. You’re here. You came back.”

  “I never left,” Agatha said. Her words were snatched away by the rustle of the trees, her face crowded by shadows. Yet George cradled his face into her hand, placing his over hers. For minutes, neither moved. “It’s time for me to go.” She kissed him on the forehead. Her legs were starting to pull upwards towards the darkening sky. She gripped his hand in both of his until she couldn’t any longer.

  “It’s getting late. Let's get you back home, George.” the carer murmured. The old man's eyes glistened as he was wheeled him away out of the cemetery, his carer closing the squeaky gate behind them.