She woke to the aroma of pancakes and fresh coffee. Immediately, she started crying. She had to be imagining it, but it felt so real she could almost taste the buttery pancakes.
She lived alone. There wasn’t anyone in the house who could be making pancakes and coffee. And yet, she smelled it as clearly as if it was real.
One year. It had been one year, today.
That day would never be forgotten for her. It was the day she had lost everything that mattered to her.
She slowly crawled out of bed, determined to do more with her day than cry. After a long hot shower, she dressed in the floor length black gown she had worn at the funeral, a week after the death of her sister. Once she had applied makeup to her satisfaction and her hair was in a tight knot on top of her head with the black tulle veil in place, she made her way downstairs, barefoot so she wouldn’t fall.
She went to the kitchen to check on things, since the smell of pancakes and coffee was still very thick in the air. Sitting on the table was a mountain of pancakes, dripping in maple syrup and a cup of hot steaming coffee in a mug she never uses, because her sister gave it to her a week before she died.
She freezes in her tracks, looking around the dark kitchen, trying to understand what is going on. A black candle sits next to the food, burning, with a small pool of inky wax.
“I thought you’d never come downstairs. I see you dressed for the occasion.”
“Who else? I can’t believe how long you kept me waiting. I had to make fresh pancakes because the first ones got cold.”
“I…I…” There were no words. She couldn’t see the girl, but she could hear her sister’s voice clearly.
“Don’t act so surprised. Did you really think death would keep me away?”
“Well, it’s been a year. I honestly expected you months ago. When you didn’t show up, I assumed you weren’t coming. And how the hell did you make pancakes and coffee?”
“I’ve learned a few tricks. Today seemed the best day for a grand re-entrance into your life.”
Leave it to Jasmin to refuse to stay dead.