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A recollection flashed before me—a "Feast of Memories," they called it. The elders prepared a table laden with translucent fruits and ghostly wine. We could touch, even taste them, but it wasn't the same.
It was like eating a picture of a peach instead of the ripe, juicy, real thing. I recalled reaching for one, its texture vague under my fingers, the taste a mere whisper on my tongue. What I wouldn't have given for an actual bite with juice dribbling down my chin.
I blinked my eyes open, and there he was. Logan sat on our couch, book in hand, looking like the perfect portrait of serenity.
The book clattered to the floor when he saw me. We lunged at each other, colliding in a clash of limbs and emotion. As our arms wrapped around each other, his warmth surged through me. It was a perfect homecoming.
“Missed me?" I grinned.
"Like you wouldn’t believe.”
We sank into the couch, knees touching, catching up as if each moment apart had been a page in a novel we were co-authoring. I started with a grin, ready to dive into the conversational deep end.
"So, Mr. Corporate, did you conquer the business world while I was away?” I teased, nudging his knee with mine.
Logan chuckled, "Hardly. It was more like the business world tried to conquer me. Budget meetings, deadlines, you know—the usual thrilling stuff. What about you? What's life like in the spectral realm?"
"Ah, the ghostly world,” I leaned back, looking up toward the ceiling. "Think of it like a cross between an endless library and an eternal night sky. It's peaceful, but...it lacks something vital."
"Which is?"
"You," I met his gaze again, and he nodded like I’d uttered a sacred truth. "Tell me, did you eat all the cookies while I was away?"
Logan laughed, "Well, someone had to. Your absence created a cookie surplus in the market, and I couldn’t let them go bad.”
"Doing your part for the economy, I see."
"Absolutely. And speaking of doing parts, it looks like you continued your drawing while you were away. I thought you couldn’t do it in your spectral form, so that’s new.”
"Yeah! Look at this," I said, pulling out a sketchbook materialized from my time in the ghostly realm. “Eleanor gave me an enchanted chunk of charcoal.” Faces, places, and, of course, multiple portraits of Logan filled the pages.
His eyes widened as he flipped through it. "Wow, you made these?" he asked.
"Well, I wasn't going to take up knitting," I teased. "You know, I never told you about the time Eleanor and I tried to play chess. We conjured up a board and pieces, going by the logic that we could manifest objects by focusing our energy. Unfortunately, whenever we tried to move a piece, our spectral hands passed right through them.”
I chuckled at the memory. "It took us forever to make a single move. But it helped pass the time and reminded me of the times we played together here."
Logan grinned and reached for an envelope on the coffee table. "I wrote you something."
I unfolded the paper. Logan's handwriting danced across the page, and each word, each sentiment, flooded me like a dozen comforting hugs.
"Come on," he said, pulling me to my feet. "I have a day planned for us."
The rest of the day was a perfect welcome back to the human world. We had lunch at our favorite café, where the food tasted even better, and the laughter felt even richer than usual.
"Ah, Café Lumière," Logan sighed as we found our usual table by the window. "It never changes, does it?"
"Except now, it's different," I countered. "Because this time, I can actually hold the coffee cup, not just admire it from the afterlife."
Logan chuckled. "You always did have a way with silver linings."
I grinned, picking up the menu even though we both knew what we'd order—the Lovers' Lattes, a unique blend the café reserved for regulars like us.
A server soon appeared, smiling as if recognizing the moment's significance. "The usual?"
"Make it two," Logan said, sending a look my way that warmed me more than any coffee could.
When our lattes arrived, topped with heart-shaped foam, I finally got to grip the handle of my cup again, feeling the ceramic warm against my fingers. I took that first sip, and it was heaven—rich and aromatic, like life in high definition.
