When Miguel woke the next morning it was to the soft sound of knocking upon his door.

"Mmm?" He mumbled, shifting in his hammock. Dante gave a soft groan when they moved, followed by a snuffle and long sigh as he laid his head back down on Miguel.

When had he fallen asleep with Dante in his arms? Since when would Abuelita allow Dante in the house- oh.

Right.

He slowly cracked one eye open. The sight of his bony hands clutching his florcently colored alebrije brought it all back.

Dead.

The word stung, it felt like it was heavy in his gut.

He was dead.

"Muchacho?" A voice called from beyond the door.

Slowly his memory of yesterday pieced back together…. Shantytown, The Department of Family Reunions, the bridge, the car.

He took in a sharp breath.

Don't think about the car.

Don't think about it.

He kept repeating the mantra in his head. He wasn't ready to think about it yet. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready honestly. But right now? Nope. He was not going down that path.

"Muchacho are you awake?" The voice called again. "I'm going to open the door ok?"

Miguel bolted up right in his hammock. "Espera- !" He began, before the sudden movement sent the whole thing swinging and he toppled over onto the floor face first.

"Oh goodness." Amelia laughed when she entered the shack and caught sight of the little skeleton, one leg still tangled up in the hammock, sweatshirt riding down and covering his bed head as he groaned on the floor. "That's one way to wake up."

Miguel only grumbled while Dante tried to free himself from the tangled up hammock. "Here hold still" Amelia laughed, untangling his foot from the cloths hold. As soon as it was free the boys legs joined the rest of him on the floor with a 'thunk'. "Come on chico, I bet you're a little hungry sí?"

The boy lifted his head "Um, I guess a little." He shrugged, not entirely sure how his stomach worked here. Considering he no longer had a stomach.

Amelia put her hands on her hips and motioned with her head for him to follow. "Come on then, you can have breakfast with me and Marco."

Miguel shuffled to his feet. "Dante come on!" He urged, helping the dog right himself from the makeshift bed.

Much to his surprise, even without a nose, he could still smell. And currently, he smelled eggs… not just eggs. "Is that.. Huevos rancheros?" He asked following after Amelia, trying not to get caught up in her rather large faded skirt that swished as she walked.

"Por supuesto." She smirked, ruffling his hair just slightly, but pulling away when he batted at her and gave a mock pout. "You may not have organs anymore chico but you still need to eat."

"I figured that part out." Miguel shrugged. "Though… I'm still a little confused how that works. Does the food like- fall through us? Or magically disappear? How does that even happen. I don-"

"Some of these things it's just best not to question." The woman laughed. In the light of the day time Miguel could make out her features much better. Her hair was blonde and curly, most of it tied up in a bun but a few locks cascaded around her shoulders. It looked faded, like the colors on her dress. All of her seemed to have been aged with time. Like Héctor had been, her bones had a slight yellowish tint to them and her markings weren't as colorful as others he had seen. But still, very pretty. Delicate purple flowers played below her eye sockets matched with yellow and pink swirls that danced around her crown and her jaw. Miguel secretly wondered when she died, or how old she was when it happened. But he wasn't sure if that was something you could ask someone here.

"Ah, buenos días!" Marco called from the doorway of one of the many other shacks, his violin seemingly replaced with a hot plate of food. "Vengan aquí! Fresh off the skillet." He called.

Miguel followed his nose (and Amelia) inside the shack. The small room was a crude living space, cobbled together from scraps. Shoved up against the wall was a thin mattress propped upon a few crates, a blanket laid across it with a hole or two dotting the pattern. Near the front of the room was a pair of tin cans make shifted into a stove with a few careful cuts and a fire burning in each, a metal plate resting above them made for the stove top. Amelia ushered Miguel to a small crowding of crates that seemed to serve as chairs as Marco reddied a plate of food for him.

Miguel hadn't realized exactly how hungry he was till food was actually in front of him. Sat around a tiny makeshift table in Marco's house it was easy to forget himself and devour his plate. Turns out, the food just magically disappears once its through the mouth. Miguel wasn't sure what to make of this new found discovery besides keep eating.

"Slow down." Amelia laughed. "Don't want to choke to death."

Miguel paused abruptly. "We can choke to death?" He said with a little squeak, abruptly putting down his plate.

Marco chuckled. "Well, not to death. I mean, we're already well... You know." he shrugged. Miguel did know, and appreciated them not actually saying the word.

He still wasn't ready to really say it aloud yet.

"There is… well, there is another form of end for us here though." Amelia whispered, a soft smile. "But maybe that's another topic for another day muchacho."

Miguel paused, looking down to his food. "You mean, when people forget about you?"

His question hung in the air, a pregnant silence that followed filled the space.

Amelia and Marco exchanged a quiet look before both nodding slowly once. "Sí muchacho… but it's not something you will have to worry about for a long while hopefully." Marco said.

Miguel looked to him. He could see that Marco was probably more in need of contemplating the final death than he was. He reminded Miguel of Héctor. The yellowed bones, the fractures hastily taped up in places, old ripped clothing. But his hair was a messy brown, his frame not so lanky, and his jaw a little wider.

Looking between Amelia and Marco it was clear they were from a time that had passed long before Miguel was born. He silently wondered how many people there were left to think of them.

And Héctor he…

Miguel still didn't know if Héctor was even alive. That thought had been tucked back with the memory of the car, something he just couldn't think about right now. But it was growing increasingly harder not to with Marco and Amelia reminding him of the papá he missed.

"Miguel, you don't have to answer, but how old are you?" Amelia asked, a hand quietly placed on the boys knee.

The little skeleton looked up from his plate and into her eyes. They looked kind, warm, pleading. He looked back down to his plate, trying not to shuffle his feet as his posture grew inwards. "Thirteen." he whispered. "I would have been fourteen in October."

He pretended not to hear the sharp intake of breath from both the adults.

"I'm so sorry." Amelia finally said, closing her eyes. "So you must not know any of your family over here."

Miguel paused, unsure of how much to reveal. "Um, well they all died before I was born really." Which was true. Well, mostly true. If you didn't count Mamá Coco.

"And did the people at the station call your family when you arrived?" Marco asked.

The boy grew silent again.

"Yeah. They did."

He didn't need to say what was next. The current circumstances made obvious the fruits of that call. Or lack thereof.

Dante looked up from where he had been secretly cleaning off Miguel's plate to nuzzle gently at the boys knee, fluttering his wings softly.

Amelia gave a small laugh and smiled. "Well, you're lucky to have such a loyal alebrije. Always trust in your spirit guide Miguel, he will take you where you need to be, even if you don't always realize it." She reached out one bony hand to give the dog a few good scritches behind his ears, causing the xolo to melt like putty into the floor with a small 'awoo'.

"Heh, yeah Dante is a pretty good dog. I trust him. He lead me here… and well, here's been pretty good." Miguel smiled with a little shrug.

"None of us down here really have family, or a place to go." Marco shrugged. "We look out for each other, and that can include you whenever you need it." He set his plate down on the table and turned to rummage through his few belongings before pulling out the violin, twisting the strings and plucking every now and again to test the tune. "You know… my family didn't come to meet me either."

Miguel looked up from where he had been petting his dog. "They didn't?"

"No." Marco shook his head and winced when a note came out sour. "They did not. I'm from… a bit of an older time than you muchacho. My family even more so. In life, I was a disgrace to them. They couldn't accept me for who I was. In death they hadn't changed."

Amelia grew quiet and cast her eyes away. "We all have our stories for being down here Miguel. We understand what it's like to wake up here alone."

Miguel nodded, petting Dante idly. His mind wandered to yesterday. Of waiting at that station on that stoop. Watching the people passing by and constantly hoping that one would be them. Hoping that any second his Papá Héctor would turn the corner and scoop him into his arms.

But it never happened.

(Maybe because Héctor was gone)

(Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Donthinkaboutit donthinkaboutit.)

"I don't know why mine didn't come for me." Miguel admitted. "I thought… maybe today I would see if I could find them. My um… my grandpa, he loved music. I thought maybe if I look around places where musicians go, I could find him."

Marco stopped plucking his violin for a moment to scratch at his chin, thumb brushing against the blue swirls etched into his jaw bone. "Hm, that's a possibility." he said "I hope it works out for you but… don't take this the wrong way primo, but be ready for things to maybe not go so well."

Miguel's head shot up. "Not go well?"

"Well, we don't want to scare you chico, but if they didnt come for you, well you need to be ready just in case it was… in case they don't react well to seeing you. I'm sure it'll be fine though hijo just… be careful." Amelia said.

"If you want, one of us could come with you." Marco suggested, plopping down in the seat beside Miguel.

Miguel remained quiet.

Why didn't they come for him yesterday.

(Don't think about it. Don't think about it.)

Why didn't they want to see him.

(Don't. Think. About. It.)

What if… what if he had failed to stir Mamá Coco's memory in time and that's why Papá Héctor-

(donthinkaboutitdontthinkaboutitDONTTHINKABOUTIT)

"I'd rather go on my own I think." He finally said, ignoring the emotions swirling around inside his head.

Amelia and Marco exchanged another look before the woman shifted her gaze back to Miguel and nodded. "Ok chico. But if you need help, find us comprende? Family… is important. But family is also something you make. Family doesn't have to be someone you share blood with."

Miguel sighed. He knew what she was trying to say, that she was trying to comfort him. And he got it, but his family had always been so close. Family had always 'come first'. Even if it took him a while to learn that.

Surely his family remembered that too.

(don't think about it)

Yeah. All he needed to do was find them.

Then everything would be ok.