She’s behind every door, and she’s in every mirror. She’s a phantom just like me, and when we’re drunk and skipping down the street, the tears in our eyes shine as bright as the lights of passing cars that see us not as humans but ghosts beneath white sheets. She’s broken, and she’s used, and she’s as lost as can be, but every time I fall asleep, it’s her smile I see. Perhaps I’m just a hopeless romantic, or maybe it’s pure madness just like they say, but I believe that some souls can’t help but collide. And even after so much time, they still sail through the clouds and dance around the moon while we lie there gone to the world with our mouths wide open, dribbling onto the pillows beneath our stupid heads. Just bones. Just flesh. But if we want, we can become whatever we wish. If we try, we can ignite this stale world and laugh at the flames as they eat away at those we despise while we sit hand in hand watching the traffic go by from a bench surrounded by empty beer cans. Some are ours, some aren’t. In the distance, in the trees and bushes that border the park we find ourselves in, the animals watch with widened eyes. Breathing heavy, they’re in awe of her beauty much the same as I. Twitching their whiskers as rain begins to fall, they inch and creep closer until they can hear our words. Within minutes, they’re close enough to touch, and when she runs her fingers through the fur of a plucky fox, I wrap my arm around her waist and whisper these words into her cold and pink ear. She smiles and laughs, and in turn, another door opens and what awaits us is as beautiful as it is strange.