"Ghost that You Can't See"

"This."

The voice was very, very quiet, perceived rather than heard. A low rumbling tone, barely perceptible, but definitely male, sounded in her head. Its deep thrum settled in her core. As Kellyn Morgan followed the aisle in Alexander's Department store back to the housewares section, she heard the voice again.

"This."

Kellyn looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. There was no one nearby. The lingerie section where she'd stopped was deserted; the Valentine's Day display of lacy little things meant to entice passersby was devoid of customers. She turned and her fingers brushed across a bit of pale pink silk.

"Yes."

Ah, she thought, a new advertising campaign. Quite clever, it certainly got her to stop. Kellyn wondered how they got it to work, something with motion detection, perhaps. She really didn't need a new bra, but it was pretty. Very pretty, she thought, fingering the dainty little thing of frills and froth. Ah, but she was strictly a white cotton camisole girl and so walked on down the aisle.

She was certain it was just the heating system kicking in, but the sound was quite reminiscent of a male sigh of disappointment with just a tinge of exasperation.

{She didn't even think of him being a ghost at first. After all, it was the twentieth century, no, the twenty-first, she corrected. Ghosts were a thing of the past. If she thought of ghosts at all, she pictured them as no more relevant than the beeswax candle held in the hand of those damsels in distress as they fled the dark castle on the cliff, clad only in a diaphanous white nightgown. However, a ghost was the best explanation she could come up with, especially given the events that followed.}