A Ghost Story ★★★★

every day, he waited, hoping that she would see him. craving the day he would glide his hands along her body and she would feel him, feel his presence. aching and bleeding for the moment where she would finally know she's not alone, where she would finally sense him in the atmosphere. but she never did. yet still, he waited. through weeks, through years, through centuries, trapped in between a stand-still and a fast-forward. eternally empty, always longing, always gazing, always waiting. the true purgatory is not being in the criss-cross between death and afterlife; it's the pain and state of staying in place as the clock turns without you. A-

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