I can't remember how I died. 

I can't remember how I lived either. 

There's the trouble in being a ghost. Sometimes you develop a bad case of amnesia. Which is thoroughly worsened by yet another undertaking. Undertaker?

Boredom. 

Amnesia or not, I do know that I thoroughly enjoy watching her. The newcomer moving into the place I most likely died. The place I'm tethered to no matter how much I try to escape. Tied by fate. Or the chthonic underworld rulebook. Or good, old-fashioned hell. 

And despite my annoyance at a stranger interrupting my eternal rest... 

Damn, said stranger looks good.

I love observing her strong physique, the newcomer with the short cropped hair and good height, flexing her biceps as she lifts yet another cardboard box up three flights. Cursing like a sailor. A handsome, sweaty sailor. 

The sun hits her just right and she glistens like gemstones catching a geologist's lamp. They light up her tattoos of serpents and flora and roots intertwining. Gleaming in radiant jewel tones. I decide then I LOVE tattoos. 

Suddenly, I yearn to taste her. Which surprises me as a thought to have. I didn't think I was the violent sort of poltergeist. 

Do I want to drink blood? I don't know. I haven't tried it. Maybe a nibble of flesh? An apertif of organ meat? 

Nah, too messy. I much prefer watching her get to her strenuous, tense work. Shining tattoos and all. 

I watch, entranced, as the newcomer lifts the bottom of her tank to wipe sweat from her brow. I see the swell of skin. Her belly. Her belt slips and I catch a line of flesh I shouldn't have. A promise. Of warmth and sweet, sweet mortality. 

Ah, mortality. How I miss the sun. I think I even miss sweating. I miss being alive even if I can't remember much of it simply because it had to be less boring than this. I miss... I miss... 

I hover closer to her. Moving just out of reach. My fingers run along her arm and she shivers. 

Oh-- the things I'd do to her if I was living! 

And then, with laughter bubbling up inside me I wonder...

... I dream of the things I can do to her now that I'm dead.