“Amidst the mists and coldest frosts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts”

“He clenches his fist against my back and speaks into my neck. His voice is warm. I didn't mean to take it this far..I lift my blurry eyes. That still means you meant to take it.”

“He understood that the ghost existed first and foremost within his own head. That maybe ghosts always haunted minds, not places. If he wanted to take a shot at it, he’d have to turn the barrel against his own temple.”

“He slid his hands under her butt and she could feel him pressing against her, hot and hard and sleek. And then he thrust inside, deep, fast, burying himself inside her, breaking past whatever trace of innocence she still had remaining.”

“It tasted of twilight and mist, moonlight and frost, emptiness and longing.”

“Steve always had a flair for the dramatic. He should have raised one ghostly fist in the air as he said it; though,for the full effect.”