He always comes around sunset time.
I assumed it was a he from the outline of the silhouette. But the fact is that I have no idea about who or even what he is. He only peeks out from behind one of the trees in the woods. Sometimes, he waves. I told my mum about him, but she refuses to believe me. I think he is my dad. He had left us seven years ago, when I was only five. However, I am sure it is him.
Afterall, his grave is still empty…
Word Count: 93
Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #23
The image is from Johannes Plenio@pexels.com.