Hope to Die

It seemed the tables had turned--again, fire inside her and she wouldn't burn—'cause now it was Kitty that owned the battle.

She liked to phase him. Shock him out of his wits when his hand went through the chair, when he couldn't touch her, when she whacked him with a book, a pencil, something, and he would rather it hit him than that tingly, scary rush of a world that wasn't real.

"Stay solid," he griped.

"But you're cute when you're all surprised." She waved one hand inside him.

He guessed it made those flutters in his heart.

Leave a Reply.