His eyes followed the pale, pre-dawn light as it brushed across Becca’s porcelain cheek. He traced her pink rose-petal eyelids with his ghostly fingers, though his touch was nothing but air against her skin. His eyes followed the path of his fingers as they trailed the side of her face, over her cheek, along her jaw line, and to her mouth. Her lips were parted in a pout, allowing her soft breath to escape. Gentle wisps of strawberry blond hair, that amazing color of a blushing sun, caressed her cheek and neck. Music played in his mind; Becca’s song—that sweet, haunting melody he heard any time he was with her or even thought of her. It was music void of words, but filled with a supernatural intensity that drew him to her.
He traced her mouth, wishing desperately he could kiss her, feel her warmth, hold her. Sadness stabbed him, piercing his transparent skin and cutting his invisible heart like shards of ice. How could this be happening?
Becca sighed and smiled, causing him to pull away. After waiting a moment, he leaned close to her ear and, brushing his mouth against her hair, spoke her name; his voice flowed past his lips in a caressing whisper, “Rabecca.”
He gasped when Becca’s eyes snapped open. Their ice blue color leapt out at him before she lurched upright, passing through his form. He jolted to his feet in shock. Had she actually heard him? His ghostly heart nearly beat its way out of his chest. (Was his real heart doing the same?) He watched her cock her head and hold her breath. She was waiting, listening!
Daring to hope, he whispered her name again. A sigh of wind whispered through the screen of Becca’s open bedroom window as her name escaped his lips. Her head jerked toward the sound before she released her breath and flopped back to her pillow. He stood frozen in anticipation. Mumbling something about whispering dreams, Becca closed her eyes and breathed evenly.
He slowly released the air from his lungs as hope fled the room. A summer storm rumbled in the distance as it left the area. He felt himself fading. He tightened his hands in frustrated fists. Somehow, he had to make her remember. She had to remember him before it was too late…