"Who are you?" asked the man on the phone.
They all did.
The first time, she'd hesitated. Twitching a smirk on a joke that wasn't - you heard the rumors out in town? The story of Jack and Marguerite Baker, and their little black and white lambs?
I'm the ghost of Zoe Baker. Trapped here by dark forces that've overtaken this house.
But I'm the friendly one hauntin' this place.
Maybe you can break the curse.
"My name's Zoe," she still said, plain.
Was some child in her that liked the thought - still Daddy's Little Girl.
Another thing to let go.
July 7th. "Ghost".
