House is quiet.

Only the flames from the fireplace and soft lights of the Christmas Tree fill the space.

Guiding your eyes across the letters of the words of the sentences of the paragraphs of the chapter of your book.

A cat jumps into your lap. You hold the book with one hand to scratch behind their ears with the other. The house is no longer quiet. There is the soft rumbling of purrs…

Until the cat is no longer interested and leaves to investigate a shadow.

And you are left to your book. And the spirit that is with you.