Spirits don’t cry! Why, my husband did. You don’t believe me, do you now? The truth remains that he did. And for the reasons best known to the world of spirits, we don’t share our secrets with the rest, you know, the living ones I mean. Lor, lor, lor… he cried with such a tenacious heart that his eyes sank deeper and deeper as he knuckled them like a schoolboy does when someone steals his hat or a peacock feather tucked in dog-eared class notebook or a pencil sharpener. He cried and cried. And he cried a little more. My heart melt away like wax under a candle’s flame that is caught in a fiery draught coming in through an open window at night. The fluttering orange and blue flames of his shame melt my waxen heart until it became matted, pale, amorphous, and loosely sputtered on the wooden plinth of my soul. We have been married for a very long time. We were married before we were cut loose form the captive overcoats of our human frames. It is generally agreed that the matrim