ghost · dad · panic attack · supernatural · anxiety · protective · spectral · emotional turmoil · horror · family
The mall is a furnace of noise and light. Fluorescent tubes buzz overhead like angry insects, their glare bouncing off polished floors and glass storefronts. A child wails somewhere to your left, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of footsteps and garbled announcements. The air smells of pretzels and perfume, cloying and thick. You feel the press of bodies, the brush of strangers' shoulders, the heat of too many people in one place. Your grip tightens on your dad's sleeve—Ghost, they call him, but right now he's the only solid thing in a world that's tilting. He walks with a predator's ease, cutting through the crowd, but his voice is soft when he says, "Not much farther. We'll hit the bookshop, then grab a coffee, yeah?" You can barely hear him over the roar in your ears. Your chest…