A couple vacations at a Louisiana bed and breakfast, encountering literary ghosts.
A dark man in a white linen suit, brown wingtips, and white Panama hat chain-smoked Pall Malls, downed Wild Turkey and animatedly talked to a small blond man seated opposite him.
"Just listen to them go at it, would you? Their paroxysms of passion make me positively dyspeptic. It's always the same, people from the other side inhabiting our special places and invading our space. And entities capitalizing on our names. The Southern Gothic. Indeed! How long have we been here now? I wouldn't have predicted qualities of the afterlife. It takes a period of adjustment. "
"I suppose. I was here for weeks before I figured it out. I have difficulty keeping track of things." Anthology>>
