"If you have no feelings, are you human?"
--
I slid off my bed as fast as I could, my nightgown rustling softly against the fabric. I rushed to the window. He was gone. I must be crazy. That was the only explanation. I scanned the window, and...
My eyes locked to one spot.
As clear as day, there rested a fingerprint. A sweat mark, almost. I went to touch it, and my heat made it larger. Then he couldn't be a ghost. I had already drawn a few cunclusions while watching him that that's what he must have been; a ghost. But weren't spirits supposively cold?
Maybe he was an angry apparition. That could explain the reasoning for the heat marks his "skin" had left. He had transferred his angry energy into heat...
No.
He had been crying.
After a while life continued on as normal, me being my usual boring and lonely self. No ghosts woke me up in the middle of the night to warm my windows. To tell you the truth, I was trying to push the memories away. I mean, I am an older woman. I must be going soft...
Days dissolved into weeks, weeks spilled into months, and months froze into a solid year. I finished brushing my hair and flopped down on my sheets. I couldn't wait for sleep to rob me from my pain. I was lonely. I had no one. I closed my eyes and waited.
Tap.
I opened my eyes excitedly. He was back!
Tap.
I looked to the window eagerly. Nothing. Just rain hitting the pane. I closed my eyes, fighting my frown, throwing myself at my pillow. I really must be insane.
Tap.