The haunting didn’t start with a chill or a bang. It started with a scent: Midnight Jasmine . "You always did prefer the cheap stuff, Connor."
"I’m the Ghost of Girlfriends Past, you idiot," she snapped, grabbing a handful of his expensive nuts. "And we’re going on a tour. Buckle up, because your memory is a lot more edited than the reality." Ghosts of Girlfriends Past
With a snap of her fingers, the ballroom dissolved. Suddenly, they were standing in a cramped dorm room. A younger Connor was packing a bag while a girl sat on the bed, crying silently. The haunting didn’t start with a chill or a bang