ghost of christmas past

they pushed the gate decorated with rust, its paint peeling off. they entered and a pieta imitation greeted them; the smell of old age and sad, tired smiles, those were the warm welcome.

they looked at each other, reading each other's minds, a similar thought bridging them. a what if, a peek of their future mirrored in their eyes. they were looking at the wrinkled men and women, abandoned by their loved ones, the homeless, the hopeless, the loveless.

we must do something, he said. the other nodded.

the next day, they opened a joint account for this purpose: a year of savings for the home for the aged, a christmas gift for the unnamed lolos and lolas...

it all started eight christmases ago. they were still together then. they were young, they were stupid, their hearts overflowed with a thing called love.

the check is ready, he said to him the other day. he was just waiting for his instruction.

he listened to his reply, nodding from time to time.

so, merry christmas, a greeting, a farewell before they end the call. or you prefer joyeux noel?

they laughed.

it will be merrier if i am with you, it was his answer. he then called him in a name he claimed as his, and suddenly he was nineteen again. silence hovered, both were lost in a labyrinth of their past.

he could hear his sigh, he could almost see his sad smile. he imagined him, standing near his window, a cigarette trapped in his fingers, his right hand holding his phone while he was looking outside his room with a view of la dame de fer.

"how beautiful to find you once were someone's ghost."
-the story of a marriage, andrew sean greer