Leo looked at his phone screen. The words didn't fade. They didn't pulse with a hidden meaning. They were just text.

He realized, with a cold, clean horror, that she had started reading the same story three weeks ago. But she had stopped at chapter two. Because chapter two, he now remembered, was titled: “The Spouse Who Was Already a Ghost.”

He slammed the laptop shut. His heart slammed his ribs. For a glorious, terrifying second, he felt nothing . No story. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of his daughter practicing piano off-key.