“I round her, sliding my chest against her back as I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You must be frightening.” “I am,” she insists, though her voice is breathless, and another tremor is working its way down her spine. I hum, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Again, she shivers. “Then show me, my little ghost.”
―
H.D. Carlton,
Where's Molly
