“I was just a little girl, about eight, when my mother and I went to a shabby motel for the night. As my mother talked to the clerk, I felt as if someone, or something, was staring at me. I walked away from the two adults and looked up at  a rather large mirror held up high on the wall.

There, I saw my mother’s boyfriend. He looked down at me with an odd, but cold, look in his gray eyes. He looked very sad for some reason, but when I blinked, he was gone. Seeing him didn’t scare me, but it did surprise me.

Four weeks after seeing his image in the mirror, my mother told told me that her ex-boyfriend had died.”

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