She mumbles to herself. Walking on the side of a highway. Alone. Again.
"Another job well done." She sighs. She watches her breath crystallize in front of her. Shivering, she pulls her jacket tight around her.
The moon in the clear night sky casts shadows across her ivory skin. The stars reflecting across her silky, purple hair.
She lives her life drifting from one place to another. Helping who she can, whom ever needs it. She enters a town and leaves it in the same state as it was before. Making a difference to only a scarce few.
"Haven't you ever wondered," she asks herself, "If you are truly alive? If the world cares about you, your story, your existence? If the people who know not of what lies beyond their happy, little daydreams are actually just pretending to be oblivious? Or if they really just have yet to pay enough attention, away from their silly little lives, to truly notice the horrors of this world?"
As she lifts a mixture of chemicals, paper, and tobacco to her lips, lighting the cancerous stick, a voice sounds behind her, "Perhaps, we are hidden too well." She takes a drag from her cigarette. Not bothering to turn around yet, " Or possibly," the voice continues, " we will never know, not until we die. But then, that would be the end. No do-over's."
She turns to the voice behind her, exhaling her smoke. As she stares into the familiar, deep brown eyes of the man she once loved. She replies, "Maybe, we are all just ghosts, Adam."
"And maybe no one will ever know, Elaina." He smiles.
As they stand there, skin glowing in the moon light, they smile at each other. Both pondering life. Both feeling as ghosts.
