Page 29 of Paws & Order

Now it sits clean on the dish rack.

Warm from a recent rinse.

Cassian finds me staring at it the same way someone might stare at a message in a bottle washed ashore.

"What?" he asks.

I point.

"Do ghosts wash dishes?"

He considers.

"Depends. Poltergeists usually break things. If it's a spirit, it's a new one. The local ghosts mostly rearrange furniture and terrorize newcomers."

There's no static in the air.

No magical residue.

Still, I run water from the faucet just to make sure it flows normally.

Cassian watches me.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

I think about my grandmother's funeral.

About walking into empty rooms and swearing I could still smell her perfume.

I think about the copper spiral hidden inside my wall.

Then I decide to stick with the basics.

"If it's a ghost, it's a polite one."

"I'll keep my spidey sense on standby."

He smiles.

"Good plan."

We spend the afternoon doing almost nothing.

I try to read and fail.

I try to cook and burn half the pasta.

Cassian occupies my couch with a book so battered it may have witnessed the invention of paper.

For someone so restless, he's remarkably serene when he's planted.

Legs stretched out.

Book balanced in one hand.

Completely absorbed in whatever history of law enforcement Zadok dug out of the demon archives.

I catch myself watching him.