Michael

Michael took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp autumn air. His favorite thing about this city was its weather— spring and fall were still long and distinct seasons, unlike so many places, and most days were sunny and mild with a light breeze. The trees bore red and orange leaves, like some kind of magazine photo of a forest hiking trail, and most places smelled like pine and cinnamon.

He liked this place, even if his apartment building was less than stellar and he hadn't been around long enough to get to know anyone too well.

Michael and his small family had moved, together, from the city he had grown up in to pursue a more relaxing day-to-day and to get away from the traffic and crime. They'd travelled around for a short while, not staying long in any one place, until they found their new hometown. The nomadic lifestyle of those last couple of years had been difficult, but it was well worth it now.

"Someone's hungry," Michael mumbled. The bird he'd been feeding had finished its food very quickly and was now squawking angrily at him, stomping one of its little feet.

Lloyd Crenshaw— their previous caretaker— had warned Michael that the birds could be a bit demanding. If they insisted on more food, he had warned, it was alright to give them just one treat, but that had to be the cutoff point.

As Michael fished through his basket of supplies for the little bag of treats, he paused. He felt a presence. It was one that he was familiar enough with by now to know who it was without looking.

"...Andy? What brings you all the way up here?"

"Ah!" Andrew seemed to jump out of his skin. "How did you know?!"

"Call it a feeling."

Andrew laughed nervously, and then he walked over to where Michael was kneeling.

"So he kept them up here," Andrew murmured to himself. There were four generously large birdcages on the apartment building's roof, each containing a single pigeon. "He was always talking about them, but I thought he kept them in his apartment."

"Well, we're not technically supposed to have pets in this building," Michael explained as he found the bag of treats. "But your friend Mr. Crenshaw was elderly, and the birds are hardly bothering anyone up here, so Mr. Laurence made an exception."

"Huh." Andrew studied the pigeon nearest him. "I didn't know you'd talked to him before! He said he was kind of lonely in this building..."

Michael was glad that Andrew couldn't see his knowing smile from this angle.

"That's only because he was the last one left in his family. He didn't have any friends or relatives left... Just these little ones."

"Oh. I guess that explains why he was so devoted to them." Andrew looked sad, for just a moment, before he smiled. "Why... are you feeding them? Did you agree to take care of them after he, um... died?"

Michael noted that Andrew said the word "died" in an unsure tone. To him, it seemed that Lloyd had just disappeared one day, while everyone else in the apartment building had finished mourning Lloyd months before.

Lloyd had stuck around for a short while after dying to make sure that someone took good care of his birds, all of which he'd rescued off of the streets. He'd died in his sleep, after all, leaving him unable to make formal arrangements. And with no one left to will them to, he'd been too worried to leave this world behind.

That was where Michael had found him— on this roof, feeding his birds as if he had never died at all.

"He showed me how to look after them over the course of a very informative week... I'm not sure I'm qualified to do so forever, though, so I'm looking at some local bird rescues. Mr. Crenshaw wanted them to be kept together," Michael answered. Andrew hummed appreciatively.

"That's really nice of you!" He knelt down closer to where Michael was. "Hey, Mr. Cross—"

"Andy."

Andrew blinked at him for a moment before he scratched awkwardly at his neck.

"I-I mean... uh... Michael."

Michael smiled a slightly teasing smile at the other man.

"Yes, Andy?"

"Can they be pet? The birds."

Michael nodded.

"You can open the little window in the front of the cage and pet them that way. Just be sure to go slowly so that you don't startle them. They especially like it when you scratch their necks with the tip of your index finger."

Andrew did as he was told and petted the pigeon at his end of the row of cages. The bird seemed mildly confused for a moment before it settled into his touch. Michael had no way of asking them, but he was relatively sure that animals could see ghosts. Whether or not they liked ghosts was always a bit of a coin flip.

"What brings you up here, anyway?" Michael asked as politely as he could. Andrew shrugged as he re-closed the bird's cage.

"I just wanted some fresh air... I don't get out of the building much these days. My balcony is nice, but it's not a lot of space. I mentioned it to Lily, and she said I should try the roof. It's actually pretty nice up here!"

Michael perked up at the mention of a certain creepy girl.

"You spoke with Lily?"

Michael blushed and played absently with his hair. He had an awful lot of it, Michael noticed. It was thick and curly, mostly a dark brown, but with occasional strands like caramel and copper. The sunlight made those highlights of color more noticeable.

"J-Just a little bit," he stammered. "And you're right! She is nice. Really smart for her age, too. She... occasionally says some really unsettling stuff, but... you did say that she's kind of weird, so it didn't catch me off guard like I would've thought it would."

"That's good. ...I'm glad."

Andrew sat beside Michael on the roof for a short while, absorbing the warm rays of sunlight that he'd likely missed, and they politely conversed about some of the new residents of the apartment building. Andrew said something about the new family on the second floor and the bizarre arguments they had, which confirmed something Michael had been curious about. That family spoke Spanish almost exclusively, and apparently, Andrew had no trouble understanding them. Which meant that he spoke Spanish.

"I'll let you get back to it, then," Andrew said as he stood up to leave. "It's always nice talking to you!"

"Thanks, Andy. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Of course!"

He took off down the stairs. Michael heard him say something to the landlord as he passed him. Michael had been expecting him, as this was where they had always agreed to meet in secret.

The landlord, Mr. Laurence, had a perplexed expression on his face as he appeared in Michael's vision. He looked back and forth between the birdcages and the stairwell.

"Something... Something just passed me there... I heard it going down the stairs. Is that who you were talking to?"

"It was."

"That was... the kinda guy I can't see, huh?" Mr. Laurence's tone was casual, like he thought the whole thing was a joke, but his expression gave away his nervousness. Michael chuckled lowly.

"...Exactly the sort," he confirmed. "I was just speaking with the resident of apartment 304."

Michael and his landlord had an understanding.

The landlord, himself, was not a seer in the way that Michael was, but he was attuned enough that he occasionally heard and felt things— Michael's family called these sorts of people "spirit-sensitive". Mr. Laurence knew that his building was very heavily haunted. And he had confessed this to Michael one night, which had prompted Michael to come clean about his abilities. That was how they'd arrived at this arrangement.

Michael's job was to keep an eye out for the spirits, to make sure that none of them turned malicious or fell into darkness, and to help them move to the next world whenever possible. Sometimes, this meant completing unfinished tasks or caring for mementos. When the spirit had moved on, Michael would call Mr. Laurence and tell him that that person's apartment had been "freed". Then Michael would bless the apartment and pray for the spirit's peaceful slumber. Then, finally, Mr. Laurence could rent out that apartment again. In return for all of his help, Mr. Laurence gave Michael a heavy discount on his rent.

It was an arrangement that had served Michael well. He liked helping spirits. He enjoyed making good use of his gift. It was hardly work for him at all. Even so, Mr. Laurence was incredibly grateful to him for his help.

"Apartment 304?" Mr. Laurence furrowed his brow. "That apartment is haunted?"

Michael raised an eyebrow.

"I've yet to be mistaken about these things. The boy doesn't walk among the living anymore."

"A-And I don't doubt your abilities, but... It's very strange. ...That resident is still paying rent. And I don't recall him being pronounced dead at any point."

Michael liked to seem one step ahead of everyone at all times, but even he was surprised to hear that. It showed on his face, if Mr. Laurence's reaction was anything to go by.

"...Hmm. He doesn't seem to be aware that he's died, and... that may be exactly why. ...Is he paying all of his bills? And on time?"

"Yep. Every single one. ...I mean, he never did go out much. I guess I didn't think much of it when I stopped seeing him," Mr. Laurence explained.

"I've tried to leave him to his own devices, but... it seems I'll have to do some investigation," Michael thought aloud. The number of questions surrounding Andrew's existence had suddenly tripled, and even he had to admit to his open curiosity.

Mr. Laurence focused his attention on the birds.

"If you're up here taking care of these guys... I'm guessing the old guy passed on?"

Michael nodded and closed the last of the cages.

"He did indeed. Lloyd Crenshaw's only remaining earthly attachment was these birds, and I volunteered to care for them. I would appreciate your help in finding a rescue that can take them, if you can spare the time."

"I don't mind at all," Mr. Laurence insisted. "It's the least I can do, since you won't take any money. ...How many dead people's tasks are you in charge of?"

Michael clicked his tongue.

"I'm certain you don't really want to know the answer to that."

Mr. Laurence shuddered.

"I guess not." He thrust his hands into his pockets. "Have you, uh, exorcised the apartment, or whatever the hell it is you do?"

"I blessed it," Michael laughed. "It's just throwing around some sage and saying a prayer. The apartment should be clear of any lingering energies."

Mr. Laurence tightly gripped Michael's hand in a business-partner kind of shake.

"Thanks, kid," he cheered. "You just might be my favorite tenant!"

Michael cracked a wry smile.

"...Are we including the dead, or just the living?"

Mr. Laurence didn't answer him, choosing instead to scurry off while shaking his head. Michael laughed under his breath as he collected his bag of bird supplies, bidding each pigeon a farewell for the afternoon.