Either the girl’s anger at her mother or her fingers removed from my temple plucked me from the vision to the present-day ballroom. The chandelier darkens. Lights outside the window cast chalky angelic shadows across the carpet. The girl’s translucent image sweeps around me, moving toward the center of the room with a mischievous giggle. Her patter unites with many ephemeral feet darting toward the edge of the room, behind gold, floor-length drapery, quivering with their ghostly cackles. The curtains tremble wildly then halt with their dying laughter.
Unsteady, I linger on my knees until my pupils narrow into focus, a facet of my advancing second sight. My breath fogs the spectral air. I shiver as I rise from the floor, my skin gooseflesh beneath my thin T-shirt and pajama bottoms. Smoky
