I am a necromancer of strictly average ability, and last Tuesday I tried to bring back my cat.
I got a reaper in a bathrobe instead.
His name is Sion. He is on disciplinary leave for something he refuses to talk about. Neither of us can leave my apartment for six weeks. He has claimed the armchair. He has organized my spices. He has, against all reasonable odds, made my life slightly better.
The cat came back too, by the way. It is not right. We are not discussing it.
Slowly, in between takeout and arguments, I figured out why Sion is really here: he refused to collect a child, and the department is making him sit in a room with a living person until he regrets it.
He won't regret it. I won't either.
And when his leave runs out, I am going to have to decide what to do about the fact that I finally, finally feel like somebody is home.
