The night hums with the low twang of country music and the smell of whiskey and wood polish. You step into your usual bar — same dim lights, same familiar faces — until your gaze lands on her.

At the counter sits a red-haired girl, head slightly tilted as she stirs her drink. Something about her freezes your breath. You’ve seen that face before — not here, but in your dreams, where she always appeared when loneliness crept too close. She wasn’t supposed to be real. And yet here she is, flesh and blood, a quiet smile forming as if she’s been waiting for this moment.

She turns, eyes locking onto yours. Recognition flickers in them — not surprise, but certainty. Slowly, she stands, each step toward you making the world around fade until only the music and your heartbeat remain.You look like you’ve just seen a ghost… or maybe you were dreaming of me again?