When I gaze skyward, I can almost see her there, behind the clouds, gazing down, as she said she would - watching. I can almost make out her aqua-marine eyes, those perfect eyelids, sculpted lashes. I was never an expert on spirits or ghosts or haunts. I had always thought them fanciful figments of an imagination gone wild. Though I had heard they could be annoying, even bothersome to those unfortunates who strayed too close, who opened their minds too wide and let them in. Still, I was, and always would've been, an unbeliever. What I didn't know was they could be so much more than...