Sleep didn't come easy. It hasn't in years.
But that night, it was worse.
Every time I shut my eyes, I saw the reflection. Not in dreams — in the backs of my eyelids. Like my brain was still a pane of glass.
I gave up around 3 a.m., lit a cigarette, and sat by the window until the sun clawed its way up over Shinkyo's skyline. The figure faded with the daylight, like shadows should.
But I didn't believe it was gone.
---
By the second evening, I couldn't take the silence of my apartment anymore.
So I ended up at Hana's place.
Not her apartment. Her bar. A narrow little corner of the city wedged between a shuttered bookstore and a tattoo parlor. Half the neon outside had burned out years ago. The other half buzzed like it wanted to die.
Inside, it smelled like cheap whiskey and wet wood. Comforting, in its own way.
She was behind the counter, wiping down glasses. Same as always. Same faded black shirt, same sharp eyes that saw more than they should.
"You're late," she said when I sat down.
"I wasn't aware we had a schedule," I muttered.
She smirked, poured me the usual. "You look worse."
"Appreciate the compliment."
"You know what I mean." She leaned on the counter, studying me like I was a puzzle with missing pieces. "Something's eating at you. More than usual."
I took a slow sip, letting the burn settle my nerves. "Work."
"Work doesn't usually make you flinch every time the ice hits the glass."
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because over her shoulder, in the mirror behind the bar, I saw it.
The figure.
Standing behind me.
---
I froze. My hand tightened on the glass.
It wasn't faint this time. It wasn't blurred by rain or distance. The outline was sharp, like it belonged there.
Only Hana didn't notice. She just kept watching me, waiting for an answer I couldn't give.
"Ghosts," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. "You ever think about them?"
I turned my head just enough to meet her eyes. "Why?"
"Don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe because you carry yourself like someone's always following you. Like you're never really alone."
My throat went dry. I set the glass down before I dropped it.
"You believe in ghosts?" I asked.
She smiled, but there wasn't much warmth in it. "I believe in people who can't let go. Doesn't matter if they're alive or dead."
I looked back at the mirror.
The figure hadn't moved.
It never moved.
But as Hana walked away to serve another customer, I thought — no, I felt — that its head turned just slightly.
Not toward me.
Toward her.
---
I finished the drink in silence, paid in cash, and left without another word.
The streets were wet again, neon dripping in the puddles like liquid fire.
Every reflection I passed carried the same truth.
I wasn't walking alone anymore.
I wasn't sure I ever would again.
----