The spirits took pity on her, limping and sighing - looking around at all of the boxes and getting misty-eyed about change. They remembered what that was like (the toil and fragile hope of it, as well as the ridiculous amount). They did not haunt her that first night; there would be time enough to appear in mirrors, open closet doors, and mess with the lights). “It’s the way she talks to the house,” said one spirit, “like she can tell we’re here.” “She’s either very intuitive or a complete nutter,” said another. “Either way, she’s very kind,” added a third. They sighed together (very softly, so as not to wake her).


Diary Pages: Niccolo di Bernardo dei Machiavelli