Good Spirits (Ghosted, #1)

by B.K. Borison

I’ve wondered if I worked hard enough at my bruised and broken bits, if I could be shiny again, too. I’ve wondered if anyone might ever see me as something precious.

“Do not mistake me for a good man. I am not here out of some misplaced sense of honor or duty. I demand your attention and I desire your affection.”

“That’s not what hell is like.” “Oh?” “I’ve been told it resembles a corporate waiting room, complete with fluorescent lighting.”

great, its my day job

“Don’t forget,” I say to the empty room, burying my forehead against my knees. I trace his name against the fabric of my pajamas. I chant it, over and over. Nolan. Nolan. You love him. And I think he could have loved you, too. With a little more time, I think he could have loved you forever. “Don’t forget,” I say again. “Please, please. Don’t forget.”

Brb crying. sobbing. uncontrollably.