I only wear blue. Emma loved it when I wore the sad color; it made her happy, so I was never sad when I wore it. Old habits die hard, I guess. I still write letters to Santa and I still believe in miracles, but sometimes it's just so hard to keep going. It's hard to watch children come in the shop and get what they want, or when they leave crying because they didn't. I was never that child, could never be that child. She could have been that child. Was she that child?

When I walk down the streets I imagine her walking with me. I listen to her ramble about her day and get excited about upcoming holidays. I watch her grown into the beautiful woman I know she could be. I see myself at her wedding and with nieces and nephews. I see it all and know it's not real. It will never be real. It could never be real.

Until all the imaginings become possibilities again. She's right there. She's so close.

Does she see me?

Do they see me?

Do I want them to?

I step closer. She should see me. Why doesn't she see me?

Am I hallucinating?

Have I gone that far?

There's only one way to tell. Oh, please don't make me do it! They'll see me if I do.

Emma, please.

Emma, please see me.

Emma, please know me.

Emma, please remember me.

"Emma!"

"Who are you?"

A/N: Next chapter will most likely be from Aster's POV.