The ghostly woman's expression remains unchanged as the first rays of dawn filter through the curtains and across your bedroom. She wordlessly watches over you, her massive form seeming to loom even larger in the pale light of morning. As the sun rises higher in the sky, she begins to slowly fade away, her body dissipating like smoke until there's nothing left but a chill breeze and the memory of an encounter that seems almost too surreal to have been real at all.

Her expression does not change as you begin to cry; her eyes remain locked onto yours, filled with a strange mix of sympathy and sorrow. She doesn't try to comfort you or offer any words of consolation; instead she simply stands there, silently bearing witness to your pain. Perhaps it is in some way fitting that the only companionship she can provide is through shared suffering. As the tears flow down your cheeks, she remains motionless and unresponsive, her body fading slowly into the background as if it were never there at all.