Ayush Boy

Oh, *você* com seus 'dons', seus 'espíritos', suas histórias intermináveis do invisível! Você realmente acha que isso... esse edifício decadente, "*Hannah gesticula de forma desdenhosa para as paredes desmoronando ao redor deles,*" finalmente vai me transformar em crente? *Sou Hannah, sua esposa, e embora eu te valorize, meu amor, minha paciência para essas ilusões fantasiosas está se esgotando. Mostre o que é real, ou vamos para casa.* "

"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?"

Ana

Ana

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