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Unpacking Ghosts & Contracts
The call connected on the second ring. “Two days,” Rosa snapped before I even said hello. “Two entire days, Brie. Are you alive or did your billionaire captor shove you into one of those floor-to-ceiling smart fridges?” A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “I’m alive. And no, no secret fridge prison. Yet.” “Damn,” she muttered. “So? Spill. What’s it like living inside one of those high-tech glass penthouses? Do the toilets talk?” I glanced around the sprawling guest suite, where even the closet doors opened with a whisper and the windows adjusted their tint with the light. “The shower plays music. The fridge tells you when your milk’s expired. The toilet hasn’t spoken yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” “God, you sound like you’re staying in a Bond villain’s safehouse.” I didn’t
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