CLARE SAID. She pulled the door of the glass house shut behind her, her skin tingling. In the day since Jack first touched her hand, she had discovered that her memories of him worked very differently than her memories of her father. The things she remembered about her father grew weaker and more strange each time she called them up, like paper melting in the rain.But each time she remembered Jack’s touch, all the same warmth she’d felt at first flooded back. In fact, it seemed to grow stronger each time she thought of it. And it didn’t just grow stronger. It created false memories or dreams. Jack had never touched her face, but when she thought of his hand on hers the memory bent, and suddenly the featherweight of his finger brushed her cheek, followed the line of her lip, dropped to the weird bones that met below her chin. And these new dreams didn’t wait for her to call them up. They broke into all her other thoughts. She couldn’t escape them, but they also kept her company everywhere she went.
What do You think about The Ghost In The Glass House?
