Nick remembered reading about a sort of spirit that becomes attached to the living. An incubus it was called. He had never met or even heard of a spirit like that in Everlost— but this corsage—it was a floral incubus, refusing to leave its beloved host behind.

Refusing, that is, until Nick reached out, and plucked it right off the woman’s arm—an easy thing to do, as it was part of Everlost.

Doris knew something had changed the moment it happened, but she couldn’t tell what. She wheeled around the porch searching every corner. Surely she had lost something, but what could it be? That’s how it was with so many things these days. Half-finished thoughts, forgetting even what she’d forgotten. It was no picnic getting old. She looked to her right wrist, rubbing it, scratching it, wishing the uncanny feeling of loss would just go away.

Meanwhile, in Everlost, Nick went to fetch Zin.

“This corsage crossed into Everlost,” he told her. “I think it happened a very long time ago.”

“So?” said Zin. “What about it?”

“I’d like you to put it back into the living world.”

Zin had been practicing the art of “cramming,” as the Ogre had called it, but she sensed that this was a little bit different. She couldn’t say why.

She turned the corsage in her hand, put it on her own wrist for a moment, inhaled its rich fragrance—and then it finally struck her why this was different than any of the other things she had crammed back into the living world.

“These flowers are alive… .”

She thought she caught a hint of a smile on the clear side of the Ogre’s face. “So they are,” he said. “Or as alive as anything can be in Everlost. Now I’m ordering you to put that corsage back into the living world.”

She instinctively knew that dealing with something “alive” would be a whole new level of cramming.

“I don’t know if I can do that, sir.” She didn’t always remember to call him “sir,” but she did whenever she was basically telling him “no.”

“You won’t know until you try,” he told her, because the Ogre never took no for an answer.

They returned to the porch where Nick had seen the woman, but she was no longer there, because the living are rarely so convenient as to remain where you found them. Nick, however, wouldn’t rest until he had tracked her down. Although the living appeared blurry to those in Everlost, a woman in a wheelchair wouldn’t be too difficult to spot.

Doris was not at home because she had called her teenage grandson, and asked him to come take her for a walk. She was feeling unsettled. Not quite panicked, but very unsettled.

“Something’s missing,” she told him.