Support Memories of a Ghost with Facebook and Twitter!

They walked hand-in-hand the two miles back to Rose’s little apartment on 15th Street, an off-duty cop and his waitress-slash-nurse girlfriend out for an evening stroll. Her hand still tingled where he had touched her. It was just a role, devised to alleviate as much suspicion as possible, but his was the first hand she’d held like that in years, and knowing it was all pretend didn’t make that giddy feeling in her stomach go away.