“I have the cedar box safely tucked away in my bedroom closet, but its ghosts follow me about the house, distracting me from my work, interrupting my train of thought, pulling at my limbs and hair, whispering gossip in my ear.”

“Al pulled me into him, and numb, I felt his arm curve possessively about my waist. “Too late,” he whispered, his breath shifting the hair about my ear, and we jumped.”

“I knew my box of paints, stored away on the bedroom shelf of my small house across the ocean, could never create such colors.”

“...my closet and I are on my own. My closet is of no use to me. It may actually be laughing at me. It's true, I hear it.”

“Exactly," He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "Sometimes we help ourselves, and sometimes we get help from ghosts in the woods and bampots in BMWs.”

“Pulling me into his arms, he trailed light kisses from my ear to my neck, almost making me forget how late I was running.I pushed him away. “You better stop that, or we’re never getting out of here.”“My thoughts exactly.”