The voice on the phone belonged to my father.My father, who had been dead for six years.I stood in that empty seminar room with the phone pressed against my ear and I could not breathe. I knew that voice. I had heard it every morning before school, every night before bed, every time I screwed up or did something right. I had heard it stop. I had stood at a grave and watched them lower a coffin into the ground and I had not cried because I was seventeen and didn't know how yet."Ethan." The voice said my name again, patient, like it had all the time in the world. "I know this is a shock.""You're dead," I said."That's a complicated answer." A pause. "What I am is complicated. But I am very much alive, and I've been watching you for a long time. I couldn't make contact before now. It wasn't safe."Karl appeared in the doorway. His shift had mostly settled, but his eyes were still edged gold, and the cut above his brow had healed to a thin pink line. He read my face in one second and
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