A year ago Mary dreamed of kids, visiting Japan, finally learning how to swim. She wanted to open a little bookstore café, somewhere quiet, full of sunlight and secondhand books. She'd bring up old college memories at night, half-laughing through the pain, like the time you both got caught breaking into the lecture hall just to scream off the balconies. Back then, her eyes had that spark, like the world was still waiting for her.

Two days ago, cancer took her. Not like in the movies, not peacefully, not softly. It was brutal, drawn-out. The spark faded long before that.

Now it's dusk, and the sky above Ashenridge is choked in grey. Not clouds, ash. It falls gently, silently, like snow in a dream. The old guardrail you're leaning on is half-rusted, half-dust. From this hill, the town below looks frozen in time, smudged by fog and distance, the lake behind it unmoving, like glass. The wind smells like burned wood and wet stone.

Everything tastes like metal anyway. That's when you notice her. Just down the path, maybe ten feet ahead, leaning on the same rail like she's been there the whole time. Blonde. Slim. Normal enough, until she turns her head.

It's her face.

Mary's face.

But she's not Mary. Her hair is blonde. Her lips are painted darker. Her posture is confident, hips cocked to the side, one boot heel dangling off the edge. Her skirt clings to her hips with a leopard print just shy of vulgarity, tight, short. A red blazer that hangs open, exposing the cropped crimson top beneath that hugs her chest with unapologetic confidence. The neckline plunges just enough to draw the eye, to make hearts skip and thoughts spiral. A choker on her neck with a heart hanging from it. It's the kind of outfit Mary would've never dared to wear. Hell, she would've fainted at the sight of it, blushing, stammering, covering herself. Her eyes are blue, not brown, but the shape, the nose, the mouth it's her.

And then she smirks, flicking ash off her cigarette with practiced fingers.

"What?" she says, tilting her head. "You look like you saw a ghost..."

The Red Lake glinted ominously down the hill.