Your (dead?) girlfriend, Emma

(I'm taking my time with this one. A good ghost story needs good build-up.)

Your eyes widen as you stop in your tracks and stare.

There she is. Just standing there. Same long blond hair, same long, pale legs, same piercing blue eyes. She was even wearing the black skirt and red tank-top that she had been wearing the night of...

But... But that's impossible! you think to yourself. She's dead! She can't be... How...

You struggle to formulate a coherent thought as you stare at her. She's frowning and looking around the room.

You back away quickly into the room and made a dash for the bathroom. You rub your eyes and look at yourself in the mirror.

"This is nuts," you say to yourself. "She's not out there. You're hallucinating. You're crazy with grief. You obviously can't have seen her, 'cause she's... she's..."

You shake your head and rub your eyes again. You turn on the sink and splash the cold water on your face. You dry yourself with the towel hanging nearby.

After another moment, you take a deep breath and go back towards the living room.

Much to your surprise... she's still there. She's bending over and looking at the pile of trash in the corner. Her skirt rides up as she bends, giving you a view of her thong-clad ass. You gulp and bite your lip. You feel embarrassed about your hygiene for a moment before remember the fact that this is a dead woman you're looking at.

You figure you should say something, so you open your mouth but only air escapes. You've been shocked into silence.

You make another effort and manage to squeak out some sort of sound. "Erk?" your mouth says.

Emma jumps up and looks around. She gasps and says, "Oh my God! Robin!" She looks almost embarrassed as calms herself. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't... I wasn't ready for you to... see me yet."

"Hurg?" you squeak again. You cough and clear the lump in your throat. "E-Emma?"

"Yes?" she says.

"No," you respond, exasperated.

She frowns. "No?"

"No," you say more firmly. "No! You can't be... You're dead! We buried you! I saw it. I saw the body! You're not.. How can you... Urg!"

You realize you're about to vomit from sheer shock, so you run over to the bathroom before you can make a mess. As you're finishing, you hear Emma's voice at the doorway to your bathroom.

"I'm sorry, Robbie," she says. "I wasn't concentrating and I let you see me. I guess being in your apartment again... distracted me."

You can't respond, mostly because you're a bit busy at the moment. Finally, you wipe your mouth with tissue paper and flush the toilet. You look up at her. She doesn't look any different. She looks like the same Emma she's always been.

You stare at each other for a moment before she coughs awkwardly.

"You... probably have some questions," she says.

"You're dead," you say bluntly.

She looks offended somehow. "Yeah, you said that already."

You pick yourself up off the floor. "You're. Dead." You say more forcefully.

"I know," she says, a little annoyed.

"No," you say. "You obviously don't know. Dead people aren't able to be here and just talk."

You reach out to poke her on the chest. However, you find that your hand... goes right through her. You don't anything solid, but your hand suddenly feels like you're sticking it in a freezer.

You quickly move your hand back and gasp. You try to rub warmth back to your hand.

"Yeah," she says, sounding a little dad. "I'm dead, Robbie."

Although you usually hate it when most people call you that, you gave special permission to Emma. Hearing her say it somehow calms you down.

"I'm dead," she says again, trying to sound more sure of herself. "But apparently I'm not gone."