[ wp ] A man believes he is being haunted by his late ex-girlfriend .

Once the numb shock wears off, and the deep pain starts to set in, your mind starts to pay tricks on you. You begin to see her, everywhere you go. Out of the corner of your eye, someone looks like her. A door creaks and you think she's about to walk through the door. And everytime, your life comes crashing down, and back you go. Back to when it happened. 
 
 *She's late. But then when is she ever not. But you quite like her being late. Cos you get to see her walk through that bar door, all angles and curves. You get to drink her in for a second, then she sees you. And her eyes light up like a supernova. Cos she's seen you. You. Those glorious, delicious eyes are for you. And do n't that make you feel like the most important fellow in the world. * 
 
 But then a day came when I realised it was n't my mind. Somehow. We used to work at the same place, could see each other across the floor. That's how we met. That's how we fell in love. We played stupid little games across the office, everytime one of us wanted a break from the drudgery of our jobs. Which was often. And I take my desk, nine o'clock in the morning, first time back since it happened. And I do what I always do. I look for her. Without thinking. And it ai n't a trick. She's there. Sitting at her desk. Where she always was. I scrunch my eyes, it's too painful, that ai n't real. She's not there. She died. But I look again. No, she's actually there. But it's like a fading dream, she's there, but nothing's quite clear, the colours ai n't quite right, it's like she's faded somehow. 
 
 *Her embrace is electricity on your skin. She sits, taking the cold beer you offer her and talks. She was always the talker. And off she goes, talking on all the things that matter to her. That excite her. It's not the words that matter to you. Although she do n't half know how to string some of them together. It's that passion she has. That fire in her belly as she talks about all the important things in life. And as she does, a hair falls across her face. You've wiped that stray hair a thousand times. You want to a thousand times more. You drink to that thought. * 
 
 We did n't talk for months when I first joined the firm. The occasional hurried look. A smile. Nothing more. Until one morning, I come in, and all my stuff is gone. All gone. And I just panic. I thought I'd been fired. And I sense someone behind me, and I turn, fearing my manager. And there she is. And she tells me she always wanted to talk to me. So she's hidden my stuff about the place, and the only way I'm getting it back is by going with her. So I do. And that were n't the first time she did that. It was running joke to her, and a glorious way to spend time with her for me. And I glance down at my desk, and my stuff is gone. It's gone. How had, well I do n't want to say ghost. I'm not ready for that. But whatever she now was. How had she done that? And I just know, just know, that's her behind me, standing there, staring. And I ca n't look. Ca n't bear to see what's there. I ca n't. So I wait until I can feel her go. I turn, and watch as she leaves the office. 
 
 *The talking's over. Closing time ai n't for hours, but she's leaving, dragging you with her, your senses overwhelmed with her. She's got plans with you tonight. Those are your favourite nights. * 
 
 And work's too much. I ca n't handle it. So I go home. But I do n't even remember the journey. But there's no comfort at home either. The echoes of her linger in every corner. And then I see her. There. Curled up on the couch. Crying. Curled up on that favourite couch of ours. Where she used to fall asleep in my arms. On the couch too small for two but perfect for one. Perfect for us. And she'd fall asleep, and I would n't dare move a muscle. I'd gaze down and see her lying there, and be absolutely spellbound by her. Feeling her chest softly rise and fall. And I'd know that if I could spend eternity anywhere, it'd be right there, holding her in my arms. 
 
 *We're driving now. And all you can think is just how beautiful she is. Yea you're pushing the speed a little, cutting a few red lights close. But you know some of those plans she has for tonight. And you can not wait. She's so beautiful. * 
 
 And now all I can do is remember. And I do n't want to remember what happens next. I just want to remember her as she was before. But I ca n't help it. 
 
 *So beautiful. * 
 
 Not this. I do n't want to remember this. 
 
 *And you push a red light too close. And the truck hits. Right into the driver's side. * 
 
 I do n't want to remember. 
 
 *And she's crying. And you're dying. And her heart's breaking. And yours is dying. She's crying. And you dying do n't matter. Because she's crying. That's all that matters now. * 
 
 Please stop crying. 
 
 Please.
