Kate

Even she was bored with the implicit bombast in her own unfurled ellipses. Something tinkly would be needed to assuage the wooden echoes of her attempts at lightsome banter. “I’m no ghost, I’m afraid, though it’s easy to see through me.” It’s possible that a long table-full of progeny looked the other way as her tiny transparent hands lapped the grooved tumbler of livid Manhattan, like sightless deep-sea arthropods.