Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

things. He had expensive clothes, and his haircuts cost enough to feed a
family of four for a week. But even though he put on an imposing display, he
never thought much about the person underneath it all. He was far too busy to
care about such things. If there were times he’d caught his reflection in the
mirror in his bedroom, it was only given a passing thought. He hadn’t been
getting any younger. Maybe if he’d cared more, he wouldn’t be here. That
line of thinking felt dangerous, and he pushed it away.
“I could change how I look,” Nelson said. “I think. I’ve never tried, so I
don’t know if it would work or not. But I don’t imagine we have to stay as
we were when we died if we don’t want to.”
Wallace looked down at the floor warily. He wasn’t sinking, so he
supposed that was a start.
“Tell me something no one else knows.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I find
it helps to speak some things out loud rather than keep them bottled up.
Quick. Don’t think about it. The first thing that comes to your mind.”
And Wallace said, “I think I was lonely,” surprising even himself. He
frowned and shook his head. “That’s … not what I meant to say. I don’t know
why that came out. Forget it.”
“We can if you want,” Nelson said, not unkindly.
He didn’t push. Wallace felt a strange surge of affection for him, foreign
and warm. It was … odd, this feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time
he’d cared for anyone but himself. He didn’t know what that made him. “I
didn’t have … this.”
“This?”
Wallace waved his hand around. “This place. These people, like you
have.”
“Ah,” Nelson said, as if that made perfect sense.
He wondered how this man could say so much by saying so little. While
words had always been easy for Wallace, it was his power of observation
that set him apart from his peers. Noticing the little tics people had when they
were sad or happy or troubled. When they were lying, eyes turned down,
shifting side to side, mouth twisted, something Wallace prided himself in
knowing. How strange, then, that he hadn’t been able to turn that on himself.