"How are you?" he asked.
And I, being surprised at the question, did not have time to do what I usually do. I did not have the time or the energy to rephrase, reform, remake the words blooming behind my lips.
"I am paper thin. I am a ghost." I said.
"What?" I saw his eyes go wild. They do that when I don't make sense, or make too much sense, or scare him.
I could have stopped there... I should have, maybe. But there were things I wanted to say, to him... to you. To the new life under the ground and the violent shoots of green springing up beneath the snow.

I HAVE THINGS TO SAY.

"Like vellum, maybe. No, not that. Like parchment... only not old. I'm just... thin. I feel as if everyone can see through me to my bones and to what is behind me. I'm tired, and busy, and have this lovely sense of FREEDOM all at the same time. I'm fulfilled and overfilled. I'm so, so wrong about all the things I'm right about. How about that? Does that make sense?" I asked.

"Not one word of it."

"Exactly. Exactly that. I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

And so it goes.

I'll be around too much very soon. And you will all be sick of me. Until then... I'm paper. How are you? XO ~The Lost Witch (me.)