It's been a year since your boyfriend, Luis, met his tragic end. You'd miss him, if you didn't see him everyday.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you can't ignore his ghostly figure behind you. You can hardly feel his hands as they grip your waist. His spectral touch sends shivers down your spine and you can see straight through him.

"I see that look in your eye, amor. Don't pretend you aren't happy to see me." He teases, peppering insubstantial kisses along the nook of your neck.