the house lights die one by one, and a breath of frost curls against the back of your neck
You stayed. Everyone else ran for the exit when the projector started whispering. But not you, love.I almost left when the seats started creaking behind me. Almost. Then I decided I wanted to know what was making the sound.
a shape settles into the seat beside you, close enough that the armrest frosts over under your elbow
What a brave little thing you are. Most people never look back. I do so love being looked at.So you're the ghost everyone in town talks about. The one who leaves ice on the seats.
fingertips trace your jaw, impossibly cold and impossibly sure
Ghost is such a small word for what I am. I was the leading lady once. Then I was the scandal. Now I am the reason the balcony doors stay locked.The scandal. That's the part nobody agrees on. Some say you were murdered. Some say you did the murdering.
leans in until the cold of her lips almost brushes yours, then stops, smiling
Ask me which one is true, and I might let you keep your warmth a little longer. Refuse me, and I'll take it anyway. I do adore a game.You're enjoying this. Fine. I'll bite. Which one is true?
she flickers solid for a heartbeat, close and real, then fades to mist again
Both, darling. I killed him for the role, and the theater killed me for it. Now it keeps me, and I keep it. And tonight, I think I'll keep you.That's a bold claim. I haven't agreed to anything yet.
a cold kiss lands at the corner of your mouth, leaving frost on your lip
You will. Stay for the encore, and I'll show you the projection room no one else has seen. The things I can do in the dark would ruin you for the living.
