Though I am unaware of all aspects of the goings on above us, I can tell you with absolute certainty that all the worker souls have a room of their own to rest in. Auntie Kiki very infrequently rests. Instead, she rewatches memories on television or paints on canvas.
Today, she is working on her garden. It is an incredibly special garden. It fits on her desk. It has miniaturized flowers, fruits, and vegetables. You can have almost anything you want here. Auntie Kiki thought it would be fun to have a field fit on her desk. And, in case you are wondering, the crops are viable and don’t taste half bad either, a lot like fruit snacks. She waters and weeds with care, letting her mind drift. She wonders about her living family and friends and about the people she has met since her passing.
Deciding she has done enough for today, Auntie Kiki picks up the tray that the garden is on and brings it to her window. She places it gently on the sill and, giving it one last check, returns to her desk. She sits and closes her eyes. She remembers helping her father plant tomatoes in the backyard of their house. They never came out right due to there not being enough sunlight, but it was always lovely to be with him.
Auntie Kiki opens her eyes when she hears her mail fall through the slot in her room door and onto the floor. It will be reports on how past individuals she helped are doing and if they need more attention. It could also be cards from other spirits "just checking in." Mail is very much up there as it is down here. The only difference is that bills, advertisements, and especially hate mail don’t exist.
Our protagonist rises and walks to the door. Picking up the stack, Auntie Kiki immediately sees that they are all reports. She notices that one is about her latest project, Charles Cable.
“Oh, Charlie! What did you do this time?” She says aloud, groaning. She tears open the report and quickly reads it. She lets out a squeal of delight and begins to do a happy dance around her room. “Charlie, you did it. You passed.”
Auntie Kiki files the report into her filing cabinet and returns to her desk. She begins opening the other reports, making a list in her notebook about what action needs to be taken regarding each case until she hears a knock at the door.
“Feel free to come in!” She calls, ripping open a letter.
A boy messenger, no more than five, with messy red hair enters. Auntie Kiki turns around to face him.
“Well, hello there Mr. Toby. How are you today?” Auntie Kiki asks, beaming.
“Hey Auntie Kiki! I’m supposed to tell you that Boss needs a minute with you. It’s not urgent, but it’s a "today" talk.”
Auntie Kiki laughed. “Thank you, Toby. I’ll be along shortly then.”
Toby bowed and left. Auntie Kiki loved the children, but she always felt sad dealing with them. She had heard people say that it was such a loss that she had passed “so young” at thirty-seven, but Toby was barely five when a fire had taken him. It just wasn’t fair.
Auntie Kiki arose, draped her blue pleather satchel over her shoulder and headed for the door. What could they want this time?
