Tucked in my back pocket is the gun. I watch her carefully, noting every little detail. The way she holds her body suggests that she’s somewhere between fear and excitement. This is not surprising. She knows that she is about to come face to face with me. As I stare at her, I notice something that makes my heart race. Usually the ones who come through the gate look grey and empty, their souls already detached and off searching for their next bodily form. But Esther doesn’t look like that. She glows just as brightly now as she did the first day I laid eyes on her. She has always been the perfect one. The one who was the most like me. Which is why her recent behaviour has been so difficult to fathom. A single glance and I know whether someone is good or bad, whether their life will mean anything or if their existence is pointless. When my brother was born, for instance, I remember leaning over his crib and sensing how weak he was. I wanted to help but my parents didn’t understand, and wouldn’t let me do what was needed to make him strong.
