My parents. Here.
A bouquet of flowers held by Mama crashes to the floor, causing an eruption of peonies and lilies, Amber's favorite flowers.
Dad nearly drops hot and sour soup, also Amber's favorite, but executes a heroic save at the last microsecond. He puts the steaming container on a table.
"Son?" Mama reaches out a gentle hand.
Oh no. If they realize it's truly me, System will register the encounter in its diabolical brain.
But the guilt eats away at me, and I can't run from my parents anymore. System has already robbed us of family time and connection.
"Yes," I say. "It's me. I'm not sure you can touch me..."
WHOOSH.
Amber's hand passes through me. So much for my precaution about touching her. Hopefully, it doesn't activate some kind of receptor that sends a signal to System. Although I think it's too late to be fretting about that now. Far too late.
"How???"
