ghost in the window

There's a diner on the way to the T, which closes in the early afternoon--usually well before I'm heading out for the evening. Today as I was walking past there was a little girl standing inside, staring out the window. At first I glanced at her and kept walking, but something compelled me to keep looking at her. She was definitely looking back at me. I didn't see anyone else in there. She was alone, and while there were no other pedestrians I'm not sure why I should have drawn her attention.

She looked real enough, but I'm not convinced she wasn't a ghost. Dining cars in New England have history--who's to say this one isn't bloody, or tragic? Maybe they close early for a reason. And the thing is my mind wandered down this track on its own. This little ghost in the window, an utterly unremarkable thing, is nevertheless compelling. So I'm writing about it now, because I'm not sure where else to go from here.