Seeing a ghost

It can be quite a shock, when you see a ghost.
 I was standing at my window, peering out through the lace of first frost. Moonlight dappled the streets. I could get glimpses of the Other World, and the shadows of people moving like a silent river below me. Watching them flow, I noticed one young woman, translucent. She turned one way, hesitated, turned around, stumbled a few steps, stopped, looked up. I imagined I could see her tears; a trick of the moonlight. It felt as if she were looking at me, but of course she wasn't; my window was dark and she couldn't see through it. I wished I could go out and do something to help her--but what? I could offer guidance or comfort, but she wouldn't be able to hear me. So, unable to help, I simply watched. Eventually she was carried away on the tide of moving souls, and I lost track of her.
 There were others out there, with the passions of their life showing strongly, that I could pick them out of the masses. Raging or pained or staggering drunk or bouncing giddy with excitement or grieving. This woman having loveless sex with strangers out of desperate loneliness. That man, worn and lined by care, but forgetting it as he cheered for his team. The teenage girl glowing with first love. The warrior, eyes dark and wary. The new pilot, exultant with first flight. The pretty, unhappy woman in a slave collar. The single mother too proud to ask for help. All of them beyond my ability to touch, to hear, to reach.
 In a flash of realization, I understood that the people I saw were living; that I was the one who was silent and distant. I looked at my reflection, and saw.
It can be quite a shock, when you see a ghost.