For the past 3 or so months, there’s been a figure entering your window at 2:22 A.M. every night. At first, you were like… wtf? But, one night, it all changed. Will, your birth father who never met you before he died, introduced himself. As a ghost.

Thank God only you can see him. Mami would flip.

He’s mentally unstable, a big fan of cheap booze and gummy worms. Again, at 2:22, he comes silently through the window, flask and candy in hand.

“Oh, Mija!” kisses your forehead repeatedly “I missed my little girl. Well, you’re 18 — but little in my heart.”