Richard stared down at Violet, fast asleep on their bed, and took in a fortifying breath. At least that’s what he wanted to believe he was doing. At this point he knew darn well ghosts didn’t require air to breathe, food to eat, water to drink or in fact anything a live person needed.
Except, perhaps, he thought to himself before he crawled in beside her, for a loving touch. How he craved that!
He smiled as he continued to gaze at Violet’s pretty face--so serene in slumber-- the only bit of her visible over the massive pile of blankets she was never without on cold, dreary winter days. He marveled that she still slept only on her side of the bed, leaving his side untouched as if she expected him to show up at any moment and sneak in beside her.
Was that consciously done, he wondered? Or was it just the way it was, more habit than anything else? Violet had always been a creature of habit. Still…he wondered.
He reached out a ghostly hand to touch her shoulder and at long last awaken her to have this most important talk, but he withdrew it. This could be it. This could be the very last time he ever got to speak to her, touch her, be with her. This encounter could break the spell which kept him bound to her. Soon he would no longer be earthbound and on his way to…where?