In my memory, the moon was full, but I know that it wasn’t. Not really. That’s just how I remember it. Things like that are always better in our memories. But that’s how I remember it, and so that’s how I’m going to tell it.
The moon was full, and the late autumn night was cool. The stars were bright, and the graveyard was bathed in a ghostly light. We played hide-and-go-seek among the tombstones, and we chased each other and laughed like the children we were.
Except we weren’t really children, either. That’s just how old folks remember young folks, even when the young folks they are remembering are themselves. We were young, and we were in love.
The moon was full, and two children playing at love were laughing in the graveyard on a perfect autumn night.
We chased each other until she let me catch her, and then we collapsed together. We laughed some more, and then we kissed. And then we kissed some more.
The sun rose, and she disappeared in the morning mist. Sometimes I wonder if she’s waiting for me on the other side…my ghost girl.