Nobody believes in ghosts these days, but I do. I know ghosts exist. I’ve seen one. Now, in the films, ghosts shriek and wail and moan. Curse, prophesy, damnation. Ghosts haunt. But the thing about real ghosts is, they don’t say anything. The thing about real ghosts is, we haunt them.

It was late at night, too late to be awake, but I couldn’t sleep. I was looking for something and instead I found something else. Pictures from two, three, four years ago. Hearts and thumbs and smiles. Her face.

I don’t know how she killed herself. I never met her fiance, or their kids. I don’t even remember the last time I saw her. She slipped so easily from passing acquaintance, to passed, to past.

4AM came around and I needed to sleep. My finger hovered over the button. I didn't click it.

The really scary thing about ghosts is that they look like the living, but you know there’s nobody there.