I watch her, and she is beautiful.  No one can see how truly beautiful she is, no one but me.  She is no conventional beauty, no one on this plane can see what I see.  I see what she is inside, can hear the songs that her soul whispers.  I miss you, darling.  I miss holding you in my arms, watching the peacefulness and love in your face as you sleep.  I miss you and love you.

She looked adorably grubby in the gray overalls, dark curls pulled back out of her face to reveal her laughing golden eyes.
“You’re a moron, Keith,” she declared, tossing the damp oil rag at him and catching him square in the shoulder.  “You don’t know nothin’ about cars.”
“Anything about cars,” Quinn, the other mechanic, mumbled from under the hood of a metallic-green open-top jeep.
Keith snickered and whispered something in Gaelic, earning a punch in the arm and a scowl from Asia.  None of the other three were aware of the pale shadow in the corner, watching the scene with eternally sad colorless eyes.

You don’t remember me, do you?  No, no one does, for I am the last and the only.  He smiled the only way one could smile as broken-hearted tears ran down his face.  I remember you oh-so-well, and yet my memory never does you justice, does it?

“So do you like living here?” Quinn asked.
Asia shrugged, picking through a pile of assorted bolts to find the right size.  “It’s cool.  Boston’s a nice place, and it has so much history, you know?”
Keith snickered and mumbled something under his breath that could’ve been “You have a lot of history,” but fell silent when Asia glared.
“It’s not bad, working for Denny here in the junkyard either, despite the fact that in Boston car abandonment is a city-sponsored sport.”
Quinn chuckled.  “You got that right.  Which school are you going to?”
“Sam Adams High,” Asia answered, the reply half muffled as she leaned under the hood of then ten-year-old pick-up.
Quinn shrugged.  “I’m a senior at Paul Revere High.  I still can’t get over the fact that there’s a beer named after Sam Adams.”
Asia nodded, straightening up.  “You said it.  Keith over there thinks that the school mascot should be a long-necked bottle.”
Quinn sent the redhead a withering look, but the boy was on his back under a car, innocently quiet.

I made a promise, I vowed I would return.  No matter what, I want you to be happy, and I want you to be loved.  You are no longer mine, and long ago I learnt that I would have to share.  I’m sorry that I ruined your first chance at happiness, I’m sorry that I was so selfish.  I can’t have you, for I am broken, an empty shell, incomplete, and not just because I’m without you.  I forgave Them for all their trespasses save one – They took you away from me.  But I love you, and I watch over you.  In each life I was with you, in some way, and even now you are surrounded by little pieces of me.

He watched as she joked around with Quinn, threatening him with a spray-bottle of water.  Keith was leaning against the side of the car he was working on, watching the scene, smile amused, eyes longing.  Quinn tackled Asia to the ground and pinned her there, planting a sloppy wet kiss on her throat, and she shrieked.  The manager of the garage, Lyle, stomped out of his office, and the two teenagers scrambled to their feet, looking humbly chastised while Lyle berated them.
Keith couldn’t help but smile as Asia stared down at her scuffled shoes, trying to hold in laughter.
“But I love her!” Quinn cried, joking, and threw an arm around her shoulders.
Keith flinched.
Lyle rolled his eyes.  “Then get a room, kids.  I pay you to fix cars, not to entertain the other mechanics.”
Asia lifter her head, the smile vanishing when she remembered Keith.  He looked away, and she ducked out from under Quinn’s arm.
In the shadows a pale wraith hovered, watching.  Keith looked up and frowned, peering in the corner of the garage.  Was someone hiding in the shadows?  He sighed and shook his head, frowning down at the engine.

I love you.  The wraith vanished.