Ever since then, I've made a habit of talking at my father's grave and sharing stories about my day. The more I spoke, the more I sensed that it wasn't just my father listening - someone or something else seemed to be there with me. It's difficult to describe, yet I've felt an odd presence lingering ever since that day.
Then one day, as dusk neared...
"Lilou, why won't you stay the night?" Old Olly inquired, her eyes reflecting concern. My gaze briefly met the sky—it would soon be dark. I turned back to Old Olly as she continued, "There have been recent attacks in neighboring towns. It'd be safer for you to stay here tonight." Her proposition was gentle and kind.
I smiled. "Thanks, Old Olly, but I'll manage." I offered her a reassuring nod.
