"You're a ghost and you should go to Heaven and..."
James spoke with downy candor as an origami crane flapped, flightless, in his hand.
His mother arrived unannounced.
"James, please tell me why you say these things."
James looked at his mother with acceptance, innocent.
"James, I'll stay with you and make sure everything is alright, ok?"
"But mommy, you're a ghost and you should go to Heaven and be an angel."
James's father rushed in as he always did at this hour - to watch a plain paper bird fall through the frigid air of an empty room.
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