Margery saw his body lying on the coroner’s table. The love of her life.
Eighteen years later, he started to haunt her dreams. At every corner she turned, she could feel his eyes on her, but no matter how many times she turned , he was never there.
He left her little gifts every day—on her doorstep or at her work. Always signed the same way.
Your love.
That’s how she knew it was him, or well, his ghost. But either way, he visited her and always left something behind.
People thought it was cute that she had a secret admirer, but they ’didn’t know that ’it was the guy they all watched die.
