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.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. It’s the only time of year when it feels like magic might be real, hovering somewhere close to the surface.

I’ve always been able to make my own happiness when the people around me decide I’m not worth the trouble.

There’s comfort in holding these well-loved things. In knowing someone else has, too. It always makes me feel less alone. More connected.

I still feel like I don’t fit, but I’ve stopped trying to force myself into the spaces that aren’t made for me.

I’m going to live in the moment without fear of what comes next, enjoy whatever time we have together and appreciate it for what it is.

“I don’t mind apologies.” “No?” I shake my head. “Apologies mean you want to try again.”

I’ve told myself to stop wishing on stars for impossible things, but the second I’m given a chance, off I go again.