And there she was, standing before me exactly as she appeared the night before. She cast no shadow in the absence of light. Why was she here? Had she nowhere else to go? She was washed out. No color. Her hair, loose and unkept, merged with the coil of smoke around her. She faded and reappeared with every exhale. Lit by no electric light, her face longed to be illuminated. I did not want to see her but could not bring myself to turn away. With a flick of her wrist, ash fell endlessly. She was gone. I had seen this woman before but not for another 23 years. I could not recall the next day what had happened. So bizarre, so mysterious, so long ago. I slowly sipped on white porcelain, oblivious and unconscious as I sped through the hassles of the day ahead.
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