They say to expect the unexpected. What a crock of bull. No matter how much you expect something, it's always going to come as a suprise when it finally happens.

Just like our friendship. It came just as unexpectedly as when we met. I had smashed into you in the hallway, nailing you in the gut with my books. God, that looked painful.

What's even more unexpected is the way I'm looking down at you right now. You're hanging out with another girl. A girl that's not me. But what can a mere ghost do? I died in a car accident a year ago. You have the last picture of us sitting on the mantle in our apartment.

We'd been at the park, on a picnic for my twenty-fifth birthday. It was your present to me; your cooking was right up there with sharing our old apartment.

You'd grabbed me by suprise, and took a self-portrait with your digital camera. In the picture, I'm laying against your shoulder, reaching up to run my fingers through your hair. Your's are laced through my left hand, in my lap. Your glasses are crooked, because I'd accidently moved them when you pulled me down.

God, I miss being able to do that. I miss being able to hug you to death every morning as you stumble into the kitchen. I miss being able to lean over you while you're asleep on the couch every Sunday, so that I'm about two inches away from your face. After about ten seconds, you notice that there's someone other than you on that couch, and you jump awake. That one never gets old.

But what I really miss is you being able to see me. I know you notice me sometimes, because there are time I invade your dreams, just to somewhat keep in touch. But you really notice me when I hug you. Well, as close to a hug as an ectoplasmic being can give. I can only do so much.

You and that girl, I don't know her name, are crossing the street. No doubt you're walking her back home after your date, considering the time of night.

Not much of the city is still up, except for the boarding houses, and apartment complexes. There are a few lights still on in the one across the street, but the rest of the lights are all twenty-four hour diners and bars.

You're halfway across the street, and there's a beat up pick-up truck rushing towards you. You notice at the last second, and shove Whats-her-face out of the way, with no time to get out of the way yourself.

She screams. The driver gets out of his truck, and pulls out a cell phone, dialing the paramedics. The girl rushes towards you, and you stand up.

Your body is laying on the pavement, but you're standing up. With the same glow I had when I died. I remember waking up to you and my family crying, all trying to comfort one another.

I'd always hoped that your family wouldn't ever have to go through that with you, but one can only hope.

The girl you were with apparently sees you, and runs toward you. She hugs you, kisses you, and you both say good bye. She knows that she can't do anything, but there's a smile plastered to her face. She loves you too much to be upset. She knows you're going to a better place.

You fade from her vision, but not from mine. You're rushing towards me, and plow me to the ground when you realize that we can atually hug eachother.

“I missed you,” we say in unison.

You're laying on top of me, and supporting your weight doesn't hurt like it used to. You're a skinny thing, but most of your weight was muscle, and you weighed quite a bit for your size. But now, like me, you're weightless.

I stand up, dropping you to the ground. You fake glare at me, and stand up, brushing dust that isn't there off of your backside. We hug again, and are in tears now.

I think we were in tears from the beginning, though.

After another few minutes of hugging eachother, we turn to see the paramedics bringing you into the ambulance, and shaking their heads as they pull the sheet over your face.

Even though it's a sad way to end up together, I'm glad we're together nontheless.