A frame sat on the edge of a small bed. Long, pale hands held the picture frame in her lap; her knee's a little shaky. Droplets fell from her eyes onto the glass of the frame, her red hair dangling just above her hands. Alice sniffled quietly, more tears falling as she blinked her eyes. She brought one of her hands from the frame, and lifted it to her face, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She then took the bottom of her shirt and swiped it across the glass of the frame, revealing the clear picture of a man, in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair, smiling as he held onto a woman by her waist. It had been a little over a year when he had left her alone in this world. All because of someone who made the wrong choice. A drunk driver ran a red light just as he was crossing a crosswalk. The funeral had been rather large, since he had been a well-respected man. Since he was the main supporter of the two, she had to sell their wonderful dream home, and move into a one bedroom apartment, where she worked five days a week for a local restaurant. She let the side of her thumb trail over his face, smiling sadly as she remembered that day when the picture was taken. He had been her love, her life, and her soul mate. The weight of his loss was almost unbearable, and many nights she would cry herself to sleep, waking up with a wet pillow under her cheek, and bags under her eyes from not having enough rest. She stood slowly, setting the picture frame back on the nightstand, which was right next to her bed. It was time for her to go visit his grave at the cemetery. It was the beginning of October, and she was late for her monthly visit. Her feet felt like they were made of lead. She walked over to the kitchen table in the next room, grabbing her jacket, and slipping it on. She got her keys, and a fresh bouquet of flowers she had bought from the store earlier. On the way to the cemetery, Alice noticed all the happy couples that held hands walked their dogs. Some older couples sat next to each other on benches. It made her feel all the more terrible, being left alone and a widow at the age of twenty-eight. She pulled into the driveway, and parked her car on the side. She grabbed the flowers and walked over to the grave, still decorated with last month's flowers. She squatted in front of the tombstone, taking up the old flowers and putting the new in front of the stone. "Michael...I miss you so much," her voice started to quiver, her eyes immediately filling with hot tears. "Why did God take you away from me? Why? Why did you leave me here alone?" She reached into her coat pocket and took out a bunch of tissues, then dabbed them at her eyes. "I can't bear it anymore!" She put her face in the tissues, sobbing violently, making her whole body shiver. When she finished, she stood, her head feeling light and her body feeling lethargic. Yet, she felt better, as if she had just been comforted. She drove home, and for the rest of the night she watched movies, then went off to bed. This was one of those nights where she could not sleep. Instead, she just lay there on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Tears streamed down the sides of her temples, disappearing in her hair. "Why do you cry, Alice?" A voice sounded, one she hadn't heard in a painfully long time. She shot up in bed, quickly looking around the room, but she saw nothing. Her heartbeat had started up quickly, and she had to take slow, deep breaths to calm herself. "Michael?" She called out as she tucked her red hair behind her ears. "What is it, darling?" She felt a weight press into the side of the bed next to her, and there he was, lying in bed next to her, smiling. Her jaw dropped, and she screamed in happiness, fear, and shock, her hands coming to her mouth to muffle her cry. She threw herself on him, arms wrapping around his neck, squeezing him tightly. She leaned up, and looked at him, touching his cheek. "But...you are dead?" She stated inquisitively. He only continued to smile at her, while rolling over, so she was under him and he was lying comfortably on top of her. He stroked her cheeks, his thumbs moving up to her temples to stroke away the dampness there. His head went down, his lips claiming hers. She responded by kissing him in return, her arms slowly wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. Was this real? How could this be? She didn't care for the moment, all she wanted was him. His hands worked at her shirt as he continued to kiss her, his tongue pressing into her mouth. He worked his hands up under her shirt, and pulled back just long enough to slip the material off of her torso. He went down to her neck, tasting her skin. He wanted her more then he ever had. It had been too long since he had seen his bride. Too long he had to suffer in silence and watch her cry over him. "But I don't understa-" Her words were drowned out by a moan as he covered her left nipple with his mouth. He started to suckle on small nub, rolling his tongue around it, while his other hand occupied the other by filling his palm with it, and flicking it with his nail. She ran her hands up and down his back, then gripped the collar of his sweater, trying to pull it off. He leant up, pulling away from her nipple, making his lips smack together. Tearing his shirt off, he threw it to the floor. She gasped as she saw he bore no scar, no deformation, and not even a hint of him ever being hit by a car. His hands moved down her stomach, until he was able to hook his thumbs at her pajama pants, and easily discarding of them, along with her panties. He slipped out of his as well, and grabbed the sides of her thighs, pressing his hardness against her. "Michael... I need you," she said mindlessly, and he leant to her, kissing the side of her cheek. "I love you, Alice." He dug his nails into her flesh as he plunged into her, emitting a loud cry from them both. He grabbed the sheets, and pulled them above them, so they were just a big mass, moving together under the sheets, moaning. She felt so good, he felt so good. They were finally one once again. Forever. He kept thrusting into her deeply, completely; both of them lost in the sensations. She held onto him for life, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he held himself up, helping himself to a perfect angle. It didn't take long before they were both moaning and climaxing together. When they were finished, he lay there with his head on her breast, and she stroking his hair. But, finally she had to break the silence. "Michael, how can this be? You died a year ago. There was your body...we had a funeral for you." "There will be another time for that discussion. All you need to know is that I will never leave you again. Never." And as she drifted off to sleep, he peered into the darkness, his tongue running across his fangs.