She claimed super-abilities, much like she claimed the hearts of men whose names never truly left imprints on her memory. Hour-long baths - body completely submerged in the water, spirit floating through obscure and unseen portals. Rooms that would tilt at the whim of her mind’s eye. Invisibility that clung to her like a cloak and refused to let go - even as the night became perfumed with the scent of stolen innocence.
In the fading glow of clover cigarettes, she let herself remember the ghosts of her past. The ones that lurked around every corner, silently stalking the places she had become drawn to the most. The ones whose faces she swore she saw in random passers-by on days when the universe was not quite aligned. Entities of age and light, faded beauty and the scent of forgotten flowers.
And so they drew near to her, kneeling at her feet and offering shallow condolences, for she was much closer to them than ever before - and they knew her sorrow all too well.