You may think you know where this story of undying love is going … but beware: you might be myth-ing something important.
The concert was going fine until Johnny Harlowe saw his dead girlfriend in the third row. He faltered, fingers skidding on guitar strings just as the rest of the band went into the instrumental bridge. If anybody noticed his lapse, he couldn’t tell. Didn’t care. He blinked, looked again.
She was gone.
If she’d ever even been there …