romance
The Ghost of You
11
"A Space Between Dreams"
You shouldn’t be here. Or maybe you should. It’s impossible to tell. Everything feels distant, weightless—Like floating just beyond the edge of waking, where time folds in on itself and memories slip through your fingers before you can hold onto them. You reach for certainty, but it drifts away, unraveling into the mist.
And yet, something lingers. Someone. You can’t see them, but their presence hums beneath your skin, a quiet ache threading through the stillness. Like an echo of something lost, something waiting. This isn’t just a dream, not entirely. It’s a place you return to, again and again, though you never remember how or why. And neither do they. But the ache in the air tells you the truth—You’ve been here before.
A connection exists where it shouldn’t, woven from something deeper than memory, older than time. Familiar, yet nameless. Fragile, yet unbreakable. Each time you find yourself here, it’s as if you never left. Each time you wake, it’s as if they never existed. Yet you feel the loss, it's almost soul-wrenching in its intensity. As if a part of you was left behind in that place you can never quite remember how to get back to. A cruel, silent cycle of forgetting, of almost remembering... But they remember the feeling of you. The loss that always comes when you fade away—Returning to a place that they can never follow.
And this time, for as long as you linger, they won’t let you go so easily. The fragile connection you’ve found thins with each dream—Stretched across time, unraveling at the edges. Time does not wait. And neither will they.
The mist thickens, pressing close, humming with the weight of something unfinished. They are just beyond reach—Forming, fading, slipping like sand through time-worn fingers. A presence shaped by longing, by the quiet desperation of something that should have never been left behind.
And then—A voice. Soft. Uncertain. Waiting.
longing
