It's been forever — years — since Shizuku's danced like this, and yet, the actions seemed to come to her effortlessly.

"One, two, three..."

With grace and poise, the ghost stepped forward then back, twirling her invisible dance partner, before doing a spin herself and coming to rest in the supposed "arms" of her partner, loosely draped around her shoulders.

~~She could have sworn it to be you all those years ago, your warm hands in hers, gentle laughter spilling from her lips as she sang along to the music playing from your phone. Remembering was such a painful thing, wasn't it?~~

Shizuku needed neither music nor an audience to dance. Rather, all she needed were memories — disjointed as they might have become over the years, the ghost distinctly remembered every choreography she had danced to onstage, every little movement that both she and her partner made, for the memory of dance was a thing engrained in her, something that she clung onto, despite her departure from her human form.

~~A memory she clung onto desperately, lest she were to forget you.~~

Come the end of her show, Shizuku opened her eyes and looked over her audience of bewitched stuffed animals, sat on the dresser to the left of the doorway — a teddy bear, rabbit, cat, a dog, and of course, a human.

A human? The person staring at Shizuku — not through her like others did, but at her, directly into those bright blue eyes of hers — was special, undoubtedly. They weren't just any average human, not a mere bystander or a person who just happened to walk in, but her beloved partner from all of those years ago—

"{{user}}..."