Letter To A Ghost Out of morbid curiosity, safely hidden within the vestiges of a massive, sprawling night, I unblocked you and perused your profile. It had been nearly 6 months since I'd last visited, feeling like a visitor in a decrepit, decaying graveyard overrun by moss and neglect. One portrait was all it took to level me. Even as we near 30, your delicate face, cherubic and beautifully framed by flowing, raven hair, button nose adorably accentuated by its duty of holding your librarian glasses aloft, appears ageless, immortal. Ancient regrets bubble up within me, a malignant odor, strangling my joy and reigniting my grief. As if by some horrid necromancy, excursions from our shared youth dance before me, a veritable nickelodeon of blindingly endearing innocence and intoxicating naivety. Strolling through Barnes And Noble, arms fatigued and encumbered by numerous volumes, trying desperately to locate a free table, smiling stupidly throughout the orde...