My hood is up as I walk in the rain. If you look at me, it looks like that rain is hitting me. But I’m bone dry. The rain hits all around me, and never hits me. A man in a rush pushes by me, bumping my shoulder. It doesn’t affect me. I couldn’t feel it. I wouldn’t have even known he bumped me if he hadn’t turned around and said, “I’m sorry.”

I’m not alive. Quite the opposite, actually. I was killed in an accident last year. I was crossing the road to meet my boyfriend at a restaurant, and it was raining then, too. It was dark, and I was the stupid girl wearing the dark clothing. I didn’t notice the car until the lights hit my eyes, and the tires tried to squeak to a stop.

But it didn’t stop. It hit me at full speed, and I was knocked onto the road. I had blacked out, and been brought to the hospital. I died later that night. I was 17, and the next day was my birthday. That was exactly a year ago.

I’m able to walk among the living. I can act like a living person. I can eat and drink. I can sleep. I can do anything. Except feel someone when they touch me. That’s the only default of being a dead girl walking among the living.

I’m on my way to my boyfriend’s house. I have been planning this since the day I died, and now I was going to act. I wanted to tell him that he needs to forget about me, and move on. Because that’s the only way I can leave this world. Leave the living.

I knock on his door, hoping he still lives here. I can hear someone walking through the hall. Please let it be him. The door slowly opens as the man on the other side reveals himself. It’s Matt.

“Matt?” He rubs his eyes, not believing that I’m really here. “It’s me. I’m here.”

“No. You’re dead. You aren’t really here. I’m just imagining things.” He starts to close the door, but I keep it open with my foot. I open the door enough so that I can get in. He closes the door as soon as I’m inside. He doesn’t turn to look at me. He stays facing the door. “I’m dreaming. I fell asleep on the couch and I’m dreaming about you again.”

“Again?” I ask him.

“I’ve dreamt about you every night since the night you died. And now I’m going crazy. I’m talking to a ghost.”

“I am NOT a ghost. If I were a ghost, you would be able to pass right through me. But I’m as solid as a rock. And that was an insult. Ghosts aren’t what people think they are. They’re hideous, and rude, and just plain mean.”

He turned around and looked at me then, and walked towards me. He put his hand on my face, trying to tell if I was telling the truth. “You’re really here,” he whispered.

“Not for long. I need to tell you something. You need to forget about me. You need to fall in love, get married. Have a family. That’s the only way I can leave this world, is if you move on. Can you do that for me?”

Just then, a women’s voice floated from the top of the steps. “Matt? Who’s at the door?” I looked up just in time to see her gracefully walk down the steps. “Who’s this, Matt?”

“I was just leaving,” I said, answering for him. “Don’t forget what I said.” I gave him a meaningful look, knowing the girl was probably wondering what I was talking about.

Right before I walked out the door, he grabbed my arm. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Walking among the living,” I said with a smile on my face. I pulled my black hood back over my head, and walked out the door, not turning around to say goodbye.