How are we going to go?"

"

We buried my mother two years ago – she had diabetes. My father missed her terribly and couldn't come to terms with her passing. It's no joke, we'd been together for over forty years. And then one late evening, his heart gave out. He went to his bedroom and fell dead by the bed. Death was instantaneous. We buried my father and were left alone with my son, Anton, to live in our parents' apartment.

Shortly before nine o'clock, I was sitting in the living room one day, making a list of everything we needed to buy for the wake. It was already late, Anton had gone to bed, and I didn't feel like it. Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming from the bathroom. Who knows, maybe my son had gotten up? And then it was like an icy shower of ice washed over me... those were my father's footsteps! He was the only one who walked like that, shuffling and limping on his right leg. I froze in fear.  Then I heard someone walking toward the kitchen, stopped, and then my mother's voice:

"Slava, how are we supposed to go together? You're naked!"

And my father replied:

"It's okay, I'll cover myself with my hands, and then we'll go."

What happened to me then! I rushed to my son as if I'd been scalded. We slept in the same room. Or rather, I lay there all night, unable to sleep. Later, as I was coming to my senses, I thought: maybe they forgot to put underwear on Dad at the morgue when they dressed him? Why did Mom say he was naked? Can the deceased really come for their newly departed loved ones? It turns out that Mom came for Dad... Nothing strange ever happened in our apartment before or after. And that's enough for me—I've been through so much fear...