One day, floating around, she told me, "I don't have any memories."

"An amnesiac ghost?"

"Yeah, I can't remember anything. I just wandered around, until I saw you."

"Do you want to know?"

"Does it matter?"

I didn't reply.

She looked at the tapes. "It doesn't. Knowing doesn't bring me back to life."

"But knowing is knowing. You will have your identity. A ghost with an identity."

She smiled, "It does. Doesn't it."

We travelled along the coast to find any clues that might trigger her memories. We went and met a lot of people on the way. Some were nice, as I tried to ask about her information, but some people just ignored and chased us away.

It was fun journey.

I feel young again.

Younger than I am.

Ate French fries in the car, blasting our ears with songs, singing out of tune. Shopping for jackets and hats, it wasn't until we reach this lighthouse at the cape that she seemed to remember something.

On that old lighthouse, we climbed up and watched as ships of all sizes coming back to port.

There she said, "I remember my father. Dad, he had a yacht. We often sailed on it. I love the ocean, the beach, and him.

"What was his name?"

"I don't know. I always called my father, 'Dad'. He loved me a lot."

"How did you know?"

"I just do." And she gave me one of her brightest smiles.

"What did he call you?"

"Love."

"So, should I call you Love in the future?"

"No, that's supposed to be a pet name. It's not my actual name."

"Need to find my name."

"My name, not yours. Silly."

"Maybe those... The side effects of the medicine are still there. It's affecting me."

"You will get better soon," she comforted me.

She gave me a ghost hug.