Lisa didn’t consider herself a smoker. She believed it was simply her way of relieving stress. Just as some people need a glass of wine with breakfast or lunch, she needed to light a cigarette. She enjoyed the process—opening a fresh pack, lighting the cigarette, and finally, the act of smoking itself. Maybe she even liked the stability of the routine.

Nevertheless, Lisa hated smoking in a crowd. That’s why she had chosen the best possible spot—the second-floor fire escape of the hotel. Nobody ever went there, and she had discovered the place completely by accident. So, like clockwork, she went there twice a day. Thank goodness her room was on the second floor too. She would go for a smoke before breakfast and after her shift ended.

But a week ago, everything changed. Every other day, she began smoking alongside some woman. This woman never looked at her or spoke to her. Lisa didn’t complain. The best company was silent company. But she always wondered who it was. She described the woman’s appearance to a waitress, who said nothing.

A ghost woman—it must be, Lisa thought one silent evening, smoking alone.

This nickname became the working name for the woman. None of her colleagues knew who she was, and asking the guests would have been strange. So, the Ghost Woman remained the Ghost Woman.

It was early on a Monday morning. Lisa got up and, without changing out of her simple gray shirt and pants, went for her smoke. She saw a familiar back just as the door closed behind her.

She pulled out a cigarette but suddenly remembered she’d forgotten her lighter. She glanced at the woman and coughed softly to get her attention: "Excuse me, do you have a light?"