My girlfriend, Alex, went shopping for our engagement party.

On her way back to the parking lot, she was accosted by a harasser. And by the time I arrived, she had already fended off the perpetrator. I tried to talk to her about it, but she was too angry and upset to listen.

I trailed behind her to make sure she was okay.

As we stepped off the curb toward the parking lot, a car hurtled toward us at breakneck speed. I was hit while Alex narrowly escaped. I couldn't feel anything; only time seemed to slow down as my life flashed before my eyes.

In the chaos, I called for Alex, but she was eerily quiet, preoccupied with calls and emails, and sometimes fiddling with my knife. It was at my funeral, which Alex had organized two days later, that I realized that I had died.

A handful of people attended my funeral. I had no family or relatives to mourn my passing, only Alex's friends and coworkers.

I hoped Alex wouldn't forget me, at least not this soon. So after the funeral, I stayed with her.

Stolen novel; please report.

It was impossible for Alex to fulfill my wish in this economy. Instead, she chose to cremate my remains and scatter them in the river where I had asked her to become my girlfriend. Together we watched my ashes drift downstream before she wept and apologized for not being able to bury me.

Some nights, our cat Duul would become restless, seeking comfort from cuddling with Alex and purring loudly into the night.

He must have sensed something, for Alex's grief manifested in the form of nightmares; she would repeat phrases like "Let's go" and "It's dangerous" in her sleep, undeterred by Duul's cries.

I looked at my pale, blue hands and yearned to offer Alex some solace. I longed to share more happy times with her again.

But a ghost could only do so much.

Today, on what would have been our engagement day, Alex lights a candle in my memory and cuts my favorite fruit with my knife. Then she skims through our old texts and pictures, crying as she reminisces about our past.

Floating in the ether, I know it's time for me to move on. Alex remembers me, and that is enough for me.

But I can't shake off the feeling that there's one thing I must do.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and the harasser appears with a knife in his hand. A disturbing grin manifests on his face as his eyes trail from Duul to Alex.

I look down when I feel the warmth of my knife against my skin.

And beside me sits Duul, gazing up at me and meowing.

If there is something I will do for Alex before I go to the great beyond, it's this: as she kept me alive in death, I will keep her safe in life.