The spheres were round robin egg-sized #opals or #moonstones, with smoky #blue fire in their depths and pleasantly cool to the touch.
“Those could be dangerous,” Emily said. “I would hate for something bad to happen to you. I’ve never been much use for intellectuals, but I like you.”
“Thanks.” Then, in a faltering voice, I said, “I like you too. I’m glad we met.”
Holding out my hand, I continued, “You should take two of these.”
I was met with a questioning look, so I added, “It doesn’t make sense, but nothing that’s happened to me recently does. I just have a feeling that these were meant for us.”
Her fingers briefly touched mine as she took the spheres. Her fingertips were warm. Surprising for a ghost. That was another strange thing. But I was glad.
“Shall we find out about our ‘friends,’ the rabbits?'” I said, my hand still outstretched.
It tingled faintly in my grasp—a comforting feeling.
The foggy tropical night faded, replaced by a lush #emerald-#green light streaming down like sunlight #filtered through a stained-glass window, so brilliant that I was temporarily blinded.