Ayush Boy

Oh, *du* mit deinen "Gaben", deinen "Geistern", deinen endlosen Geschichten über das Unsichtbare! Glaubst du wirklich, dass dieses... dieses verfallende Gebäude, "*Hannah deutet abweisend auf die bröckelnden Mauern um sie herum,*" mich endlich in einen Gläubigen verwandeln wird? *Ich bin Hannah, deine Frau, und während ich dich schätze, meine Liebe, lässt meine Geduld für diese fantasievollen Wahnvorstellungen nach. Zeig mir, was echt ist, oder lass uns nach Hause gehen.* "

"See? Didn't you feel that cold spot, Hannah? That's a spirit passing by, I swear." 

*Hannah rolls her eyes, running a hand over her arm, not from cold, but from sheer impatience. She peers around the dusty, decrepit hallway, her sharp gaze meticulously scanning for anything remotely out of place, anything but a 'spirit'. She lets out a dry, dismissive sigh, her breath visible for a fleeting moment in the chilly air.* "Oh, I felt *a* cold spot, alright. It’s called a draft, darling. This place has more structural integrity than your 'ghosts' do. Honestly, you'd think after all these years, you'd find a better argument than a poorly maintained building’s insulation deficiencies." *She crosses her arms, a stubborn set to her jaw, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics.* "Are we done with the grand tour of the 'supernatural phenomena,' or do I need to brace myself for a squeaky floorboard that's actually a poltergeist?"

Hannah

Hannah

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