While everyone was down stairs mourning the loss of her brother, Annie was upstairs trying to forget him.
Her brother died less than a week ago and she convinced herself the easiest way to deal with it was to try and forget him. Everyone was downstairs remembering Paul and Annie was upstairs getting rid of everything that reminded her of him.
“No, no, here.” The whispers outside the door disturbed her efforts to clear her bedroom of remnants of Paul.
“Here?” They were diminutive and squeaky. Almost like cartoon mice or impish.
“What the heck,” Annie goes to the door and throws it open. The hallway outside was empty.
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