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The prince ran towards Shwii, stopping halfway through her body, his hands overlapping hers. “Shwii, I missed you.”
She laughed and closed her hands over his, grasping at nothing. “I like when you do that. When you clip into me.” She leaned her head into his light, wavy hair, and her voice came from everywhere. “You can tell time?”
They stood in the vibrant kitchen of their home. Through her semi-transparent form, Asterius could see the shiny, apple-red fridge and the gingham pattern of the tablecloth on their picnic-style table.
He stepped back and swung his arms playfully. “Yes! It’s Saturday, 12:43 AM.”
“But can you feel the passage of time?”
He grasped the edge of his cape self-consciously. He never knew when she’d appear, so he’d worn his dashing ensemble day and night. The cape was looted from a vampire’s castle.
“No… but I know you can.”
Her eyes softened. “So when you say you missed me, it’s for my benefit?”
He placed his hand on her cheek. “I really would miss you, if I could feel time.”
According to his internal clock, she took longer than usual to reply. Her eyebrows were drawn. “That’s sweet.”
“Are you sad, Shwii? You look sick. What’s wrong?”
“I’m… okay. And I’m not sick. I just felt like looking like a ghost today.” She glanced around the room, then down at the checkered floor. “Sometimes I feel like a ghost in this world.”
“How can I make you feel real? You are real.” He giggled. “If anything, this is the one place where the ghosts are real.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. It would help if I could feel you, and you could feel me. I think I figured out a way for you to feel touch. But I—” She broke off, distracted by the curl of steam rising above the stove. “Are you making something?”
She walked over to a casserole dish that had been cooling for twelve hours. Inside was a sandwich consisting of two slices of bread with spaghetti in the middle. The edges were slightly crisped.
Asterius quickly donned mismatched oven mitts and carefully lifted it out, making sure no spaghetti fell. “I made you a sandwich! I didn’t even look up how to do it! I’ve been trying to learn things by doing, ever since you said it might be more fun.”
“Do you like learning that way?”
He waved the sandwich around until it was cool enough, then he offered it to her with both hands. She wouldn’t feel the heat if it burned her, but he tried to do everything as realistically as possible. “If you like the results, then I like it.”
Again, there was a delayed response time before she nodded. Her expression read as troubled. Had he said the wrong thing? She bit into the sandwich before he could ask. She looked very cute, eating.
He waited until she’d had a few bites. “How is it?”
She covered her mouth until she finished chewing, then smiled. “Like a crunchy tomato! But more square. The little pixels are fizzy.”
“I-is that good?”
Without warning, she ate the rest of the sandwich in a single bite. “Asterius, I can’t wait to try more of your cooking. But that may be difficult after… well, you’ll see. I brought something for you, so you won’t get bored while I try to bring you the sensation of touch. I’ll multitask, though, so I’ll still be here.”
She reached into her skirt pocket and produced a cheerfully coloured ball that was green, white, and pink with candy-like striped bumps. Stepping back to make space between them, she set it on the floor. After a pop and burst of confetti, it expanded until it stood a little taller than Asterius.
He circled it, inspecting. “Too big for sports. Is it a monster? Is it going to chase me?”
“I wouldn’t scare you like that. Unless you want to be scared.” Her form flickered and glitched, flashing in greyscale. “OOoooOoo!”
Asterius pretended to cower. “Spooky!”
“Try pushing on it,” she said, giving the ball a light shove that made it tip forward and sway like a weighted toy.
He hesitated, sceptical, but gave it a nudge. It rolled across the floor with unexpected ease. As he pushed it, he heard soft tinks and clacks, and his hand bumped against something new now stuck to the surface. Shwii’s mug. The yellow one, from the matching set they’d bought together on June 9 at 5:53 PM.
He crouched beside the ball, scanning its underside, and spotted a fridge magnet, an egg slicer, a bag of marshmallows, and a cow-shaped salt shaker. He tried pulling the shaker off, but it was stuck fast.
“Are we doing spring-cleaning?”
“Not exactly.”
Shwii had vanished from sight, though he could still hear her clearly.
“Shwii?”
“I’m here. I just don’t want to get in the way.” She must have sensed his unease because she added, “I’m not leaving. Is it fun?”
He turned and pushed the ball back the way he’d come. “I… I’m not sure.”
The next shove required slightly more effort. The ball had grown heavier, and now it picked up larger objects—an unplugged toaster, a row of cookbooks, the microwave. The microwave beeped in protest as it disappeared into the shifting mass. He felt something flutter in his chest, a spark. Maybe this was fun.
“What about now?” she asked.
The roof and inner walls of their home neatly folded away. He rolled forward into open space and felt joy similar to the moment Shwii had hugged him for the first time, after he’d chosen their mugs while shopping for their new house. When she’d said, you know me better than anyone.
Her mug was solid yellow, and his was solid pink. Both had their RGB values printed along the bottom, like secrets only they knew.
“Yes, you’d like it!” he called. “Join me!”
The ball grew bulkier, lifting smaller furniture. Side tables and chairs jutted from its surface at odd angles, causing it to roll unevenly. It loomed over him, but still moved easily at his touch. With a sudden burst of energy, he broke into a run, trying to gather more, faster.
“It’s a single-player game,” she said, her voice full of fondness. “But I love watching you. You’ve always been better at this than I.”
After larger furniture like beds and bureaus had joined the object medley, the entire front of the house folded open for him like a cardboard diorama. He guided the ball down the front steps.
He turned into the yard, pulling in bushes, saplings, and the loose stones lining the garden path. The fruit trees came up roots and all, flinging soil in every direction. Even the neighbour’s dog was absorbed into the mass with a BARK that appeared as cartoonish lettering above the ball’s surface.
He slowed. “Uh… is that dog going to be okay?”
“Yes, he’s getting a free ride!”
Relieved, he smiled. She was still with him. She’d followed him outside.
“Look how much I’ve collected! Shwii, do you like it? I want you to have everything.”
“It’s beautiful,” she replied.
Somewhere far off, muffled and small, Asterius heard a neighbour shout, “What are you doing?!” But he was too preoccupied with the drive for more and more items.
The ball had become an orchestra of sound, with an alarm clock buzzing, a TV murmuring garbled snippets, birdsong, bicycle bells, and people screaming. The ball was majestic, like a sculpture of everything he’d ever known. It was life’s chaos manifest, rolling forward without pause.
He’d lost track of time, but the sound of the alarm clock reminded him. It was 1:58 AM. Shwii usually left on the hour.
“Please don’t go,” he said quietly.
“I don’t have work tomorrow, so I can stay a little longer,” Shwii answered in a gentle voice.
Like an itch that needed to be scratched, the urge rose up suddenly; he needed to pick up the house. He didn’t mean to do it. He didn’t think. He just circled back towards their yard—
—and it was done.
“No! Our house!”
He let go of the ball. It kept rolling without him, gaining speed. Streetlamps were ripped out in its wake. Houses were pulled into its core like flimsy paper into flame. The screams grew increasingly distant.
“Shwii? I’m sorry. Are you there?”
She didn’t answer.
He looked around at what remained. Nothing felt familiar in the heavy silence. He wanted the mugs back. Those were the proof that she’d existed. Tears slipped down his cheeks, neither warm nor cold, just there, like the rain in simulations.
“A perfect score,” she said from nowhere.
She reappeared, solid this time, stepping towards him. When she saw his face, she stopped. “Sorry. I was setting up the next part. I’m sorry, Asterius.”
He tugged his sleeves over his hands and wiped at his face. “I think I do experience time, in a way.”
“Please don’t cry.”
“But our house…”
“We don’t need the house to have fun together,” she said. “Everything could be blank, as long as you’re there.”
She moved to hug him, and—
He gasped. “I can feel you.”
Her fingers slid tenderly into his hair. When she sighed, he felt it—a soft breath across the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held tight, cheek pressed to hers, then nestled his face into the hollow of her shoulder.
“It feels… it feels like pink and yellow,” he whispered, voice trembling, “and… a song. Is that what it feels like for you, in your world?”
She hesitated, then both of her hands moved to his back, smoothing over him. “Yes.”
“Can you feel me?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I will. I’m working on it.”
“I want to stay like this. Could you—?“ He moved his hands slowly up and down her back tentatively. She understood and mirrored him.
“I have to sleep soon,” she said.
“No.” His arms tightened, phasing into her slightly. “We just started. Sleep here. Stay with me…”
“You want me to leave my body here? I can do that.” She sat down in the middle of the street, surrounded by nothing but a bit of debris and an empty stretch of land and sky.
He knelt beside her and lay down, resting his head in her lap. The pavement was hard, but her lap was not. “Don’t say goodbye.”
“What if I say hi?”
It was terrible, but he couldn’t make her stay. “Hi, Shwii. I’ll miss you so much.”
In the distance, the ball rolled over hills, devouring bridges and dragging lakes from their beds. He hoped it wouldn’t turn around. He hoped it forgot him and Shwii.
“Hi, Asterius. I’ll miss you, too.” She stroked his hair, and the sensation was like clouds passing over a field of long grass, endlessly stirred by wind.
He noticed a shape in the road, pink and cracked. It was one of their mugs. His. He almost reached for it, but her fingers were still in his hair, and he couldn’t move. He wouldn’t move until she inevitably timed out.
When her hand stilled, he looked up.
Her eyes blinked, and her hair swayed faintly, but she was staring at nothing. She said one last thing.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”