As the moments ticked by before the door opened, Cho fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, picked at her nails, ran her tongue over her teeth, anything to try and keep herself calm. But then the door swung open and staring straight at her was the face of a boy who had died just a little over a year ago.
His eyes, his face, his voice, even the way he stood - it was all the same. Cho tried to open her mouth and say something but her throat felt dry and what would she even say? One question, though, kept pushing itself to the forefront of her mind. "How? I mean -- hi."