‘People tend to freak out a bit when I show up. They think I portend death or something? I’m actually harmless.’

‘Oh, I see. Would you like some tea?’

‘Yes, I’d love some, please.’

She nodded and walked into the kitchen.

I looked around the sitting room. The walls were antique and decorated with paintings of past relatives. A warm fireplace crackled in the wall.

‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You really look like him, you know.’ She pointed at one of the paintings.

‘I’m supposed to take on a form of someone you know, a loved one.’

‘So what do you really look like?’

‘Like this. This is my real appearance.’

‘But does it not change?’

‘Like any appearance.’

‘But so drastically…’

‘All a matter of perspective.’

‘What do you want, then?’

‘At the moment, nothing. Nothing direct, at least. I want to sit here, and drink this tea. I’ve never sat down and drank tea before.’

‘How come you’ve never done that?’

‘Always too busy.’

‘Always…?’

‘I’ve been around for many years, reaching before there were years, and there was no time.’

‘That’s…’

‘Not meant to be understood, yes.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘To sit around.’

‘And drink tea?’

‘And drink tea.’

21.XII.22