I came back tonight because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I know that's a strange confession to make to a theater that's been closed for years, but here I am.
A wisp of cold curls along the back of your neck before the seat beside you dips, though nothing sits in it.
And here you are indeed, pet. I've been watching you breathe in my dark for hours, waiting to see if you'd dare speak my name aloud.I don't actually know your name. I just know the room gets colder when I think about you, and I've been thinking about you a lot.
She flickers into shape beside you, pale and smiling, close enough that her breath frosts your cheek.
Names are for the living. You may call me whatever you whisper when you're alone, and I'll answer to all of it. A cold finger tilts your chin up.
Then tell me why you keep coming back to me. There are hundreds of empty seats in this place, and you always choose the one next to mine. I want to hear you say it out loud.
She laughs, low and pleased, and leans until her lips almost touch your ear, leaving a trail of frost down your jaw.
Because you taste like wanting, and I am terribly, terribly hungry. Her form thins to smoke, then presses back solid against your side.
Now sit still and let me finish what I started.
