She was like a ghost to him, one minute there, the next, gone. Nothing but the faint scent of some exotic perfume left hanging in the air, the flicker of her white nightdress swishing round the corner. He tried to follow her, running as fast as he could to catch her, but again, when he turned the corner, all he saw was the ends of her silver hair twirling out of sight. And he woke, sweating, for the sixth night in a row, the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears, the lingering smell of her on his skin.
