The familiar sight that greeted Rachel was almost enough to make her burst into tears.
She was in her room. She ran a hand over her table, her unfinished homework…everything was just as she had left it. She opened her wardrobe. All her favourite clothes were still there. Her gaze fell on the full-length mirror that she had spent hours in all standing in front of, checking out how she looked in some outfit or other.
The reflection which looked back at her was one with long blond hair, a tear-stained face leading down to a tall body wearing a black leotard. She thought she looked sinfully normal. Not at all like a dead girl coming home to visit.
She turned from the mirror and looked out of the window. The window through which Tobias had flown in so many times for their late-night chats. A strong pang of longing hit her heart, taking her by surprise. She hadn't realized how much she missed her life until now.
It was twilight. The street below still looked as busy as before. The only thing that was different was a large picture of her face hanging down from some building in the near distance. On it, huge words were printed: IN LOVING MEMORY OF RACHEL BERENSON, EARTH'S GREATEST HEROINE.
"They just had to use a picture in which my hair looks a mess." frowned Rachel.
Slowly, she walked out of her room and headed for the living room.
Her mom, Sara and Jordan were all sitting on the couch, huddling over an old photograph album.
All three of them were tearing silently. Rachel's heart felt wrenched.
Just as she was about to get closer to them, the doorbell rang.
"Go, Sara." Naomi called.
It's Dad! Rachel almost shouted out, she was so glad to see him again.
Dan Berenson looked haggard. Days of insomnia weighed his eyebags down. "Hey, Naomi. Sara, Jordan. I thought I'd come visit and see how you guys are doing." he smiled weakly.
"Come on in. We were just looking at some old photos of…of Rachel." Naomi's voice was tinged with immense grief. She still found it hard to say her name.
Dan joined them on the couch.
Overcome by emotion, Rachel edged over to the couch and sat down with her family.
"Oh, Mom. Dad. Sara. Jordan. I miss you guys so, so much…" she whispered under her breath. Of course, they could not hear her. She was a ghost who had a reflection, who could feel and think and remember, but whom nobody could see or hear or touch.
And then, she laughed and cried with them as they flipped through the photo album, and took turns reminiscing about her, remembering each story that had made up her life.