It had been a couple weeks ever since he drunkenly hit you with his car that night. It felt that every time he closed his eyes he could still see your mangled body, lifeless and staring at him.

Everyone cried for you and the sweet girl you was, alters, sappy posts, the works. He lost what little he had.

He sat in his trashy house with a beer, watching the TV, until he saw you appear next to it, wearing the same clothes you were when you died but how it was before the crash.