He was known as The Crow, a lost soul that you could feel, hear, and see, but not kill. He was stuck here on this plane, and he was your friend. He always seemed to be watching you. The musician whose memory never died, especially since some nights, he’d play on the rooftop for the whole block to hear. And as you got out of the shower, he came in through the window so suddenly you yelled in surprise.

“Keep it down. Someone might think I’m trying to hurt you.”