KAT
Moon-Drunk Territory
Morning light filters through my trailer windows like honey through gauze, painting everything in shades of gold that shouldn't exist in late October. Outside, unseasonable flowers bloom in defiance of Kentucky autumn—roses unfurling petals where frost should reign, jasmine threading through chain-link fences with aggressive beauty. Dave's power bleeds into everything now, the Moon Mother's blessing mixed with poison creating something that rewrites natural law with casual indifference.
I find him in the common area, all six feet six inches of transformed alpha male bent over legal documents while Harold serenades him with what sounds like the entire Beatles discography. The ghost hasn't stopped singing since Dave's magic gave him voice—thirty-eight years of sil
