Haunting Romantics
Lena Smith i closed my eyes and she slipped awayeven in darkness, she chose to risewhispers of fearhorror bedrooms
“To be touched by someone.”
His thoughts grew hazy, tangled with flashes of the dream and the image of her, her bare skin and the way her hands had moved. He imagined her appearing, imagined what it might be like to be close to her, even in this strange, half-real way.
The air around him chilled, the lights flickering as the house creaked softly.
“You do not have to be afraid,” he said. “I am not ashamed of this, or of what I feel for you. I want you to see.”
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