"Wait."

"What is it, human?"

"I want to stay a little longer."

I wanted to ask him so many things, but looking this way, how can I do anything? I grip the bone serpent's horns and my eyes focus purely on my father, climbing up and down stairs under the hot sun, carrying that heavy cement as if it were nothing, just like the last 20 years of work.

I know everything he will do today, I know every step of the routine, I know he will quietly curse the construction boss and smoke after pushing a wheelbarrow full of dirt from one side to the other, I know he will whistle at some random woman on the street, I know he will tip his hat to a nice lady on the street, I know he will give a dirty look to anyone who looks minutely different from the kind of people he has seen his whole life... I know all my old man's habits.

The sun slowly passes over my head, at that pace that takes an eternity while I just observe Mr. Angelo's daily life from the top of a building. What are you doing now, old man? How have you been? Do you have any idea how much I missed you? With the sky turning orange and finally purple, the shift ends, and there goes my old man grabbing his bicycle to pedal up the street.

I mount the dark spirit to follow him at the same pace. The blurred faces of the people around no longer catch my attention, only my father's bald head, which seems to shine from up here. Heh, you never stopped losing hair for a second and always refused to have any hair treatment, right?

Where are you going? This is not the way home, I ran with you many times when you teased me to chase the bicycle. We stop at a... shack. It's not our house, but an apartment much smaller than the little house we had, and it looks horrible. The neighborhood here is also awful, I recognize the smell of weed and the loud sound of the cuckold neighbor from a distance.

"Why is he here? What about our house?"

"I cannot answer that, human."

"It's better that you don't answer. Can we pass through walls?"

"Yes, our spiritual body can pass through any physical matter, however, as soon as you touch someone, you will likely be revealed."

"Then go down, I need to see this alone."

The dark spirit acts obediently and lands on the ground, allowing me to dismount and go up to my old man's apartment. I practically walk through the wall without any fear and... what a mess. There are cigarettes everywhere, a bunch of beer bottles scattered in the entrance hall, and clothes stuck even to the wall.

Yeah, I expected something like this to happen. I walk a little further and find Mr. Angelo in a chair, in the same position as when he watched a football game with Messi playing, but even though there's a game with him on TV, his frozen expression hurts me.

He chugs a beer bottle down his throat and doesn't even burp. Next to the bed with the sheets and blanket messed up, there's a portrait. I remember this photo. It was when Mom was still with us, and we walked through a park, asked a couple walking by to take a picture of us, and printed it soon after to frame. There's another one... it's of me, on the day we went to a football stadium. We are both smiling and each holding a cup of beer.

That day was cool. I still remember today how we almost got beaten up by the guards because of the organized fan fight. We ran away with our tails between our legs and cursed the referee until we couldn't take it anymore...

"Dad..."

He doesn't hear me, he would never hear me. I'm standing right next to him, but I'm just a ghost who didn't want to go to the afterlife and came to see the misfortune of my only friend from this life. Still, this is more painful for my father than for me. His wife and then his son, now alone in this small room, drinking a beer and watching the seconds pass, with several ropes with cut knots on the ceiling.

I never forgot the time he walked me to school on my first day, when he punched me in the stomach for screwing up my college entrance exam, the time we celebrated his birthday with a cake featuring his favorite team's emblem, when his face lit up upon receiving an expensive jersey... Not even when I go back, not even when I'm beaten until my brains burst over on the other side, I won't forget.

I stand there, frozen, unsure whether to try and reach out or just let him sink alone. With every gulp, the dry sound of the bottle hitting the table makes me feel like hammers are pounding on my own chest. My father was always rough, never one for sweet words, but there was a strength in him that kept everything standing. Now, all that's left is this colorless shadow, sitting in a chair, trying to disguise the emptiness with cheap liquor.

The portrait above the bed seems to stare at me more than he does. My mother smiling, me smiling, him smiling... a lie frozen in a time that no longer exists. The contrast between that image and the guy in front of me is so cruel that my throat dries up. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake him, do something... but I'm nothing more than a dead person, a memory that got stuck, and all I can do is watch.

"You're still my hero, old man..." I murmur, even though knowing it won't reach him.

The TV continues to show the game, the commentators yelling goal, the crowd cheering, but he doesn't react. He's not the same man who taught me to run after the bicycle, who made me memorize team anthems, who scolded me for every little thing. It's as if only the shell remains.

The bone serpent crawls slowly across the floor behind me, its eyes shining in the dark as if it were also observing.

"You need to return, human, your time is running out."

I nod positively, but I wanted to ignore this guy's existence more than anything else. Not everything is rosy for the people who are left behind, right?

I wrap my arms around him, in a warm hug that I never had the courage to truly give in all the years we lived together. I was afraid to show affection, I wanted him to see me as a man, that there was no crying or pain to stop me... but, now, that shit means nothing.

We should have enjoyed more time together.

"I love you, Dad."

My hands touch the skin of the good Mr. Angelo, however, I think he only notices my touch for a brief moment. He won't be able to see me, since I'm nothing more than a spirit, but... I hope this reaches you.

I separate my arms. The serpent turns to me once again with that "We need to go" look, while I only see my father staring at nothing with an expression of shock on his face. Tears fall from both eyes. In that brief moment I have to say goodbye, I saw him cry more than in his entire life. He sobs, shrinks, lets himself be carried away by the feeling while holding the last strands of hair on his head.

This hurts, it hurts like hell. I wanted to stay and say a thousand things, I wanted you to be able to see me so we could at least talk one last time, but that's no longer possible. There's no going back, nor is there a way to return to the life before.

The serpent opens the space, I see the spirit plane through the dimensional rift and mount the bones before finally leaving my old world.

"Be well, old man."

I give a thumbs-up, in the most awkward way possible, but I know I'm talking to the air at this point. Hah, what an idiot. I really am a big idiot.

Goodbye, Dad.