There was no ghostly protest on the apparitions behalf. No promise she'd eat what he'd fix her either. She hadn't felt as if eating were an important necessity lately. It was only that she ate for energy than for pleasure. She wanted to see what would happen to her if she denied the urge long enough to have what the people in her books called visions of the spirit world...
"The rent was cheap." Her chin tilted toward where he was grilling their midnight snack, as if to lurkingly inquire if he were watching, and when content he wasn't, she bloomed away from the wall. There was a chandelier, under which stood a glass table. The artifact suspended there from the ceiling was like a gathering of milky-diamond ice. She wanted to touch it with her hands. Another part of her wanted to see it crash into the table and shatter it. She pulled out one of the chairs and tentatively, pretending to sit, fashioned a plan to climb it.