He looked down at the rotten remnants of the loofa Emma had given him. It was thoughtful, but sadly not durable. And that damn itch was back. He arched his back trying desperately to press it into the musty wood. To no avail. There weren’t many good points about living in a grave and lack of wriggle room was right up there with the god damn worms. He’s invented his own form of coffin yoga, but it’s not the most effective. But none of that mattered when he thought about Emma and last halloween. He smiled and for a moment the itch seemed to fade.

She had been sat there waiting. The first wave of fresh wind on his body always felt incredible, but it was forgotten in an instant when he saw her sat there. That instant of joy was forgotten in the next instant when he realised how he must look.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I. Um. I was going to change…” he stammered embarrassingly. She stared at him for a moment and then dissolved into quiet laughter.

“You look, just as I remembered.” Emma said. “Sorry if I startled you. It just seemed that, well time is short. I hope that’s ok?”

“No of course.” He said. There was an awkward pause.

In ‘the cabin’ as he ironically called it, he had plenty of time to think. He’d always been warned about witches. Back when he was alive. They were not to be trusted, wicked women. They took your soul and used their womanly ways for nefarious means. It had stuck with him. Even in his after life. So when they’d first met. He knew he should stay away. But the moment he saw her he knew he couldn’t.

“I can’t believe you're here.” He said, and with that the awkwardness disappeared. He walked over to her and with a tenderness that comes from an eternity of waiting, gently kissed her on the cheek. Her cheeks flushed and he saw a wetness in her coal dark eyes.

“Are you ok?” He asked nervously.

“I’m sorry” she said. “It’s just...I’m so happy to see you.”

The rest of the night was like a dream. He missed dreaming. Especially ones like that one. They had wandered freely hand in hand. Bought hot tea from a stall, and as always people marvelled at their costumes. There was only one moment when they had bumbled into some kids running down a street and one of them had dropped a terrifying looking baby doll, which had smashed. The young boy was mortified and had burst into tears. He didn’t see what Emma did, but she had turned away and a moment later the doll was whole again. The kid had started on shock and then sprinted away in fear. Leaving the doll behind. That was when he knew he should have left. Witches were trouble. But he didn’t, and knew he never would.

The incessant itch brought him back to ground, or under it. But then he smiled again as he squirmed, realising that every time he couldn’t reach that itch, it would remind him of her, and life in the cabin would get a little better.