ghost hunter

dinner and an argument

In the dim, eerie light of the early morning hours, I descended the stairs, my footsteps heavy with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. It was an unusual hour for dinner, or perhaps breakfast—the time had lost all meaning.

As I reached the kitchen, I noticed Valentina at the foot of the stairs. She had donned the t-shirt and sweatpants I had given her earlier, her long, bright red hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

A surge of protectiveness washed over me as I took in her appearance. She had been through so much, and now she was safe in our home. But George was not pleased with her presence.

'Valentina,' I called out, my voice echoing through the empty space. 'Time for dinner.'

She descended the steps slowly, her eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. George shot her a venomous glare, his displeasure evident.

'We've decided that you can stay for a trial,' I announced. 'We'll see how it goes.'

George snorted derisively. 'You've decided. I didn't get a choice.'

'George, be quiet and eat your dinner,' I snapped.

But he continued to argue, his anger escalating. I tried to reason with him, but it was no use. Finally, he stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

I glanced at Valentina, she was made of iron. She wasn't going to cry or make a scene. Instead, she'd settled into her chair, a sculpted marble statue of icy composure. Her usual lively chatter was replaced by a chilling silence.

'That was...unfortunate,' I offered, hoping to break the tension.

'Unfortunate?' Valentina's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now daggers. 'That's the understatement of the century, Lockwood.'

I couldn't help but smile at her dry sarcasm. It was a welcome reprieve from the thick atmosphere. 'Well, I'm here if you want to talk,' I said, gesturing to the untouched plate of food in front of me. 'Or if you just want to eat in comfortable silence.'

Valentina raised her eyebrows, her lips curving into a smirk. 'Comfortable? You call this comfortable?' She gestured to the empty chair beside George's. 'It's a bit like eating dinner with a ghost.'

I laughed, relieved that she was at least willing to engage with me. 'Fair enough,' I conceded. 'But I promise, I'm not going to disappear on you.'

She let out a humorless chuckle. 'I hope not, Lockwood. I'd hate to be stuck with only a ghost for company tonight.'