PREVIEW

... h the streets of a dead city. Cold floor, silent night—and there she was—Suhina.

"Suhina?" I called. There was a bit of nervousness in my voice, and a bit of hope too. But she said nothing. She stood there like life had forgotten her. Or like she had forgotten life.

Silent. Stone-like. Not a woman, but a statue of sorrow.

I wondered to myself—was it really her? Or some illusion born from death's leisure?

"Nonsense," I shook myself, "Ghosts don't exist. And even if ...

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