Closed in with her like that, it's torture not to do something right then and there, but I hold back, tense and desperate, until we emerge. It looks like no one's lived here for a while as I turn to take in the room around us, the other options ahead, but then, I don't know how to really tell here where house stay the way they were when their last owners vanished, nothing but dust to prove their absence. Everything here feels haunted, a dozen dozen ghost homes dotted across the island, furnished and abandoned. It's convenient for me, for us, but it's eerie, too, how easily people can slip away here.

A shudder running down my spine, I want to touch her again, want her hands on me, some kind of proof she's not just another shadow in the moonlight. I hurry after her, reaching out to hook my fingers in her skirt with intense care. It's difficult not to pull, not to drag, but she's wandering, exploring, and I don't want to disrupt it every bit as much as I want to.

The effort doesn't last too long. Satisfied we're alone, I slip my hand to her waist and tug her closer to kiss. For all I care, I could push her up against a wall or onto the floor as long as something happens.