She'd needed the movers, she'd paid them,

She'd needed the movers, she'd paid them, now they were gone. Tess examined each site again, where the movers'd placed each item, adjusting as needed, examining the scant damage.

She make the necessary repair. Yes. This will work. She stood back, appraising her handiwork. The room was very Feng Shui. Maybe too Feng Shui, she realised belatedly, as

she banged her shin on the futon. Swearing in Japanese, she tripped through the paper screen. This startled the cat, who ran slipshod through her zen garden. The client knocked.

The nearest to the door was the ghost in the geisha's hand-mirror. "One moment, please ... Actually it might be a rather long moment." Eventually the door opened. A teacup fell.

The ghost in the geisha's hand-mirror waited patiently. Dormant since WWII the house was caked in dust and cobwebs. The museum director saw the mirror and grabbed it, a great

beast grabbed the man and pulled him inside. From within, large shadows stretched across the room that weren't there. The man began to plot in anger to what he would do to the next

shadow that wasn't there. But what could he do to a nonexistent shade? Meanwhile the beast wondered how the man could be inside a room that wasn't there. Their existential angst

would be their downfall. The Shadow savored his work, driving criminals to the one thing jail couldn't guarantee: True rehabilitation via genuine psychological guilt. The crooks

eat every 1 of these Hostess snackcakes!'Dolly looked at me sadly while I shoveled these little yummy sugary treats in my piehole. She was always bitching about her weight anyway.