Have you read Ghost Tea Part I? You should.
Casey jumped up, spilling what was left of her tea all over her boyfriend. She brought her hands to her mouth, "Oh my God. I'm so sorry."
Grant just sighed and then twisted his shirt to wring out the tea. "It's... fine." Grant leaned down and picked up the mug, "lucky it didn't break."
"Yeah," said Casey, taking the mug and looking it over, "aw, it chipped though. This is my favorite mug."
"All your mugs are you favorite mugs."
Casey began to stroke the mug like a hurt puppy, "Yeah... so."
"I'm guessing everything went fine last night, business taken care of," said Grant as he picked up another mug from the ledge of the fire escape railing.
"Um," Casey turned about, looking for the ghost that had kept her up most of the night, "I don't know, really."
Grant pointed over at their window, "Well, that seems vaguely positive."
Casey glanced over at the window. It was covered in stains made by the grinds from the inside of a tea bag. She walked over to the window for a closer look. The stains read 'Thanks for your help, I know what I have to do now'. Casey turned to Grant, a confused look on her face.
"You don't remember," asked Grant, his arms crossed in front of him, rubbing himself for warmth. It was rather chilly out and he was still wearing only his boxers and sleep shirt, which were now wet. "Can we go inside?"
Casey looked back to the window as if she hadn't heard him. What did she say to the ghost? What was the thing that it had to do. "Something about pills. He took pills."
"Shit," Grant said, more sad than surprised, "that sucks."
"Someone was hurting him. He needed to get away."
"Well... he got away, I guess." Grant walked over and grabbed Casey from the side, pulling her into an embrace that was equal parts affection and the need for warmth .
"He didn't get away, that's not how you get away. Death isn't an exit. The only way to escape your problems is..." Casey looked over at the window, reading it over, examining the stains. They were clean and precise, methodical even. "Shit."
Casey pulled herself away from Grant, "I gotta go." She crawled through the window and ran into the bedroom. By the time Grant had made it inside, she was already at the front door with an old college hoodie pulled over her pajamas and her gym shoes on, "Where are the keys?"
"Um, probably in my jeans," said Grant, "where you going?"
She didn't answer, she just ran back to the room.
"Whoa," shouted Grant, chasing after her. She grabbed his jeans and pulled the keys out of his pocket. "Hold on a minute!"
Grant managed to catch his jeans as she tossed them to the floor and put them on with near super human agility. "What the hell, Casey," he shouted as she sped back towards the front door.
Casey grabbed the helmet that sat atop the bookshelf next to their front door. "Don't worry. Be back soon," she said, slamming the door behind her. She ran to the elevator and smacked the 'down' button repeatedly. After all of two seconds, she decided it wasn't coming fast enough and settled to take the stairs.
In the lobby, she nearly tackled one of their neighbors, old Mrs. Jenkins, spilling laundry everywhere. "Shit," Casey whispered, helping the old woman up. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jenkins."
"For God sake's Casey, where's the fire."
Casey scrambled about, snatching up the laundry, "It's, um, an emergency, kinda."
The old woman's eyes widened to the size of half dollars, "A business emergency?"
Mrs. Jenkins gasped, her eyes widening even more. "What are you doing wasting time with me," she said, knocking the laundry out of Casey's hands, "get on with it then."
Casey stood there for a moment, slightly concerned that she might have broken Mrs. Jenkins, then continued out of the front door, onto the street. When she rounded the corner to their parking lot, Grant was already leaning on the bike, wearing his boots and a wool pea coat, toting his helmet under one arm, "the fire escape would've been quicker."
"Maybe," Casey said, putting on her helmet and getting onto the bike, "I nearly killed Old Lady Jenkins in the lobby, that slowed me down."
Grant put his helmet on and waited for Casey to back the bike up before hoping on behind her. "So, you gonna tell me where we going."
Casey sped off into traffic, receiving a chorus of horns and curses. "Hopefully," she shouted over the sounds of the road, "we're stopping that ghost from killing his brother!
Exciting! At least I think so. Make sure you check out Don't Turn Around Part I and Part II, as I will be returning later this week with that story's intriguing conclusion.