Dead Man's Fantasies

You wake up feeling slightly dizzy. The world around you is gloomy and strange, red streaks of a dead man's blood lining the grimy walls. You push yourself up on the cold, wet concrete of the alleyway, and feel your head. "ooh, why am I so dizzy?" you ask yourself, looking around and surprised to see police tape and several cops standing around. You walk over to them, and call out. "Hey! What's going on down here? What happened?" They don't answer, and keep talking to each other as if they didn't notice you.

"Yeah, real bad. They jumped the poor guy and knocked him out in the middle of the sidewalk. Some sort of mugging gone bad." the other nods. "Definitely. Poor kid. Name?"

"Doe, John. His wallet was laying next to him, but all the money and credit cards were gone. Bashed his head in." You reel back, surprised at hearing your name being the same as the victim. "Am I a ghost?" you wonder to yourself.

Six days later, you've finally come to terms with the fact that you are, indeed, dead, and somehow trapped wandering the earth. You've seen some other ghosts around, and have found out that if you concentrate, you can push yourself right through things as if they weren't there. You haven't been able to see yourself in any mirrors, but from talking to the few other ghosts that you've seen, if seems that you look more or less the same as you did before you got killed. You were a 20 year old college student, about 5'10" with dark hair and eyes, and generally considered as pretty good looking. Now you walk around, and you see another ghost, a slim girl, drawing something in a window.