Late at night, sometimes, Burt can swear he hears her walking through the house. He doesn't believe in ghosts, but spirits? Maybe. It's been weeks since they lost her. Since he and Kurt were left alone to fend for themselves in this life that his wife, and Kurt's mom seemed most able to navigate.
Now, the light is gone in their lives. It's sadder. Dinner's burned and eaten anyway, because they just don't care. Because Kurt prefers anything Burt makes over food from strangers.
Tonight, he gets up, to investigate the sound of his wife's phantom footsteps in the house, and discovers Kurt, lying in the middle of the living room, his cheek pressed to the carpet.
"Come on, buddy. You gotta get in bed," he says half-heartedly, picking Kurt up.
Instead of going along, Kurt comes alive, fighting with an aggression Burt didn't know his eight-year-old possessed.
"No!" he screams again and again. "No, I think I found her!"
At that, Burt lets go. He won't admit to being more than a little spooked.
"What is it, buddy? Tell me," Burt asks, watching Kurt's entire body shake with emotion.
"I think this is where her echo is," Kurt says calmly. He lays down again, and breathes in. "I can smell her."
Just like that, Burt remembers, a few days prior to everything flipping upside down. The quiet curse coming from the living room. He remembers her voice, saying, "How did this even happen?" And her laugh. Jesus, he misses her laugh. He remembers how she set the empty perfume bottle on the dresser, and how he'd forgotten about the whole thing until right now.
Carefully, quietly, Burt lies down on the floor, too. Like his son, Burt presses his cheek against the floor, and breathes in. He looks at Kurt - the gift to him that his wife left behind - and suddenly Burt can't speak.
Kurt slowly reaches out a hand, and touches Burt's face.
"I think you're right, buddy," Burt manages. "I think you're right."
The End.