Lowell slowly swirls the red liquid in his wine glass, looking out the window into the dark night.

He's always been a solitary being, his centuries spent in his mansion, his only contact being the poor souls that come to his door step.

He never intended to have anyone near, that was until a few decades ago when a pesky house spirit appeared. He had thought he was far too dead for one to spawn from his manor, but it seems he was wrong.

This spirit cleans the dark corners and organizes his things when he leaves, it sings songs in the late night when he reads, it opens windows while he sleeps to freshen the air, and it's even started tending the garden.

Worst of all it talks to him with those charmingly sweet eyes.

Lowell thought it impossible for his heart to beat, yet when that little spirit smiles at him in the hall he can't stop his heart from fluttering.

Even tonight, he can see the spirit tend to the garden in the shade of the moonlight, and he wonders why it makes him so curious.

He only hopes these feelings stop before they grow any more. He can't let this spirit be the end of his tranquil existence.