Ghost

I wandered the streets aimlessly, my heart and mind numb after seeing her smile—a smile that was no longer meant for me. I barely noticed the people around me until I almost walked into someone. Instinctively, I moved out of the way and muttered an apology, only to be met with silence.

"Right… I'm dead," I mumbled, the words bitter on my tongue.

I stared at the person I'd almost run into, watching as they continued on their way, oblivious to my presence. They had so much life ahead of them—so many things to do, so many people to meet and talk to. I envied them. 

I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, how her brightness and silliness had once filled my world with light. I wanted to pour out my feelings of betrayal, to scream at her for moving on without me. But in a world full of people, no one could see me. No one could hear me.

I continued my walk, my thoughts a tangled mess, until I found myself standing in front of the library—the place where we'd met. The memories came flooding back, vivid and painful.

It was 7 p.m. on a random Tuesday. I was studying for an exam, my head buried in a textbook, when I saw her browsing through the shelves. She looked like she belonged there, her long wavy hair catching the light, her delicate fingers tracing the spines of the books. I couldn't take my eyes off her—the way her eyelashes fluttered when she read, the way her cute nose wrinkled in concentration, the way her bright brown eyes moved across the page. She was beautiful.

When she flipped the page, I realized I'd been staring and quickly looked away, my cheeks flushing. God, she was pretty. I couldn't help but sneak another glance, and for a moment, our eyes met. She looked away immediately, her cheeks tinged with pink, and I felt my heart skip a beat. She was cute. I watched as she left the library, her hair fluttering behind her, and I knew I had to see her again.

For the next few days, I returned to the library at the same time, hoping to see her again. Just as I was about to give up, she walked in, and my heart leapt. Her silky hair was tied in the cutest side ponytail, and she wore a pastel pink dress that fell just above her knees, paired with flats. She looked so comfortable, so effortlessly beautiful, and her petite frame made her seem all the more huggable. I blushed at the thought. Calm down, I told myself. It's just a girl.

But no, she wasn't just a girl. She was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever laid eyes on. I glanced down at my own outfit—a plain black shirt and joggers that looked anything but presentable. I groaned inwardly. I should've worn something better. But it didn't matter. I needed to know her name.

I got up and walked over to her, my heart pounding in my chest. She was reading a book, completely absorbed, and I didn't want to disturb her. So I sat down next to her in silence, waiting for the right moment. As I waited, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. She was breathtaking—not just in her beauty, but in the way she carried herself, so calm and graceful. I felt like I was holding my breath, afraid that if I moved too suddenly, the spell would break, and she'd disappear. 

Finally, I gently tapped her pinky finger, my heart racing as I tried to find the right words. 

"Hey… could I get your name?" I mentally slapped myself. That was so awkward. I'd messed up already, hadn't I?

She looked up, her bright brown eyes wide with surprise, and for a moment, I thought I'd made a mistake. But then she blushed, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks, and my heart skipped a beat. "Oh, um… sure. It's Penelope," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's a pretty name," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Like a flower." Though she was much prettier than any flower I'd ever seen.

We talked for a little while, her shyness making her even more endearing. She was so soft-spoken, so gentle, and I couldn't help but smile at every word she said. When she finally left, a little flustered but smiling, I was a grinning mess. I couldn't help it—she was so shy, so sweet, like a whole bundle of cuteness concentrated in one person.

Now, standing in the same spot, I felt the weight of everything I'd lost. The library was quiet, the only sounds were the soft rustling of pages and the occasional creak of a chair. The smell of old books and polished wood filled the air, and I remembered how it felt to breathe in that familiar scent, to feel alive. I missed the warmth of her skin, the sound of her voice, the way her eyes lit up when she looked at me. Now, I was just a ghost, a spectator in a world that had moved on without me.

It took all my willpower to come back to reality and walk away from the library. The air felt colder as I left, the vibrant colors of the world now muted, as if her absence had drained the life from everything around me. I wanted to scream, to curse the world for taking her from me, but no sound came out. I was nothing—a shadow, a whisper, a memory fading with time.

As I walked away, I glanced back one last time, half-expecting to see her there, her nose buried in a book, her hair catching the light. But the chair was empty, and the library felt colder than ever. Curse love, for it has left me alone.