That is how we met. Her communion with the dead struck me as odd, almost sacrilegious, but she dismissed my concerns with such good humor that I was utterly charmed. Soon enough it didn’t seem strange to me that I had a roommate who would periodically sit at her desk and write down words dictated by a ghost. Ginny did not go into a trance. It was none of the stuff you see in films. She’d simply sit and scribble. It did not bother me. But it bothered Carolyn.
