Tyreal pointed to Viggo. “In that chair, I think I see the shape of a man.”
Vig’s eyes went Holy-crap-wide. I think we mirrored our looks of shock. Tyreal squinted at Vig as if to bring an object into greater focus.
I bit my lip. If he could see him, what would it mean? Just in case this was bad, I’d try denial. “I can’t see a ghost.” My guardian angel? Yes. Ghost? No.
Little dessert fork in my good hand, I cut off a piece of cake. “They do say it’s important to have a good imagination or life’s dull.”
Tyreal looked at me. “Obviously mine’s about to become real exciting.”
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