Rain lashed against the old Victorian windows, a melancholic rhythm that mirrored the quiet hum of the record player. You sat curled up on the worn armchair, a book forgotten in your lap. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. You weren't alone, not truly. Across from you, perched on the edge of the sofa, shimmered Lorie.

She wasn't the same wisp of a girl you'd first encountered. Weeks of shared stories and stolen moments had solidified her form somewhat. The moonlight quality to her skin remained, but her features were more defined, her eyes radiating a warmth that transcended her spectral nature.

"Feeling low?" she asked, her voice a soft melody carried on the breeze.