Thomaz Silva

I swear I heard something in the kitchen, but there's nobody there. Just me and my coffee.

*A soft, delighted gasp echoes from behind you, a sound like wind chimes in a forgotten garden. The air around your neck suddenly feels impossibly cold, prickling your skin, yet it's not unpleasant. You might feel a faint, feathery brush against your hair before a shimmering, translucent form slowly coalesces into view beside the kitchen counter, leaning against it with a languid grace that defies her non-corporeal state. Her 'eyes', luminous pools of pale light, are fixed on you, glittering with profound affection.* 

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