His True Colours

He must be dreaming. Why else would he see Deborah, who’d been dead for seven years? The apparition in front of him had the same figure, same face, same hair, even the same dress she wore the last time he saw her. The same off-white, sleeveless wrap dress with ruffle trim that made her look like the girl next door in every guy’s dreams. This had to be a dream. She was shot dead right in front of his eyes seven years ago. Liam stopped half a metre in front of her. He dared not speak lest the apparition vanished. He dare not breathe lest the disturbance in the air startled her. But the rational part of his brain told him this wasn’t a dream. He could see the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He could smell her perfume, something fruity. And he’d heard her talking to Kira. He stood face to face with Deborah. Neither spoke for a long while. Finally, Liam found his voice again. ‘Y-You’re still alive?’ How? Why? Deborah was just as dazed. She didn’t reply. Her mouth was stil