Last night I took two of the snowman cookies and put them on a plate. When everyone was busy I slipped out of the house undetected (no worries, the alarms only go off if I leave the relative safety of the backyard, toward the cliffs, not if I step onto the driveway) and took the plate to the garage. I unlocked the side door of the garage and went inside. It was pitch dark at ground level in spite of a small amount of ambient light from the loft windows above. I didn't turn the lights on, I don't think I ever do when I go in there. I just walked across the floor in the dark to the back wall and set the plate down gently on the counter.
I turned to leave and smacked right into Ben. I think I broke my nose and all of my toes in doing so. He's a wall.
What are you doing, little one?
Nothing. Ow. I didn't know you were behind me.
Do ghosts eat cookies?
I am so busted. Mine would, I whisper and put my hands up over my face. I'm sorry Benny.
He pulls my hands back down. Don't be sorry. I would do the same.
Really?
No. Jake can get his own fucking cookies. And I doubt Cole ever ate them. He probably stacked them up and stood on them so he would look bigger. You know, like Loch does.
I laughed. Oh my God I laughed.
And this morning when we went back for the plate the cookies were gone.
