Okay, so if you finished that sentence in your head, it’s not true, you haven’t seen them all, but I couldn’t think of a better title.
Around this time, I also started noticing a ghost in the house. It was mostly just him doing small but nice things, like when I walked toward my door, he would open it for me.
I don’t know how I figured all this out; in his own way he told me. His name is Timothy, and he’s about 12. Even though I was only 13, I didn’t see him as a peer, he always seemed younger, more like a child, and he was never mean.
This time, I think I kept my mouth shut about sensing him. I never “saw” him, but I did get a basic idea of what he looked like in my mind: young, skinny but healthy, short brown hair. I never did get a sense of his clothing, and I don’t think I ever asked him how he died.