She’s always there: tall, pale, beautiful as the stars and the moon on the clearest of midwinter nights. No words ever come from between her blue lips, the color of frost. At times, it seems like she’s trying to tell me something. I can see her reaching out, fingers grabbing towards me.
Once, those fingers were solid enough for me to feel, an icy wind against my skin. They were almost tangible. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes, as if she couldn’t bear our separation.
I don’t know if she was a ghost or a spirit or some sort of being from another plane. All I know is that I’ve never seen anyone or anything as beautiful as her.
My whole life I’ve seen her and I’ve never been able to forget her. I look forward to each and every sighting like most people look forward to birthdays and Christmas.
At first, I told people about her, but they just laughed. Later, it was “grow up, Katherine. You’re too old for imaginary friends.”
Now I see her for real, right in front of me, just through the window. Her fingers stretch out towards me.
“Come with me,” she says.
I had been waiting to hear those words my entire life.
Word Count: 200
This is my entry for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner Week #20. Thanks to rogershipp for holding the challenge! The photo is from pixabay.com.