— The Dead Room (2015).

Holly, whose pulse was a tuning fork for the unseen, entered the farmhouse like a lit match carried into a bottle; the phenomenon responded not with conversation but with pressure, that primitive grammar of air and negation. Instruments skittered, thresholds folded, and the invisible asserted itself with the clumsiness of a god in a barn. What remained afterward was not spectacle but subtraction: the team’s geometry refigured around an absence where a person had stood, the data recording nothing so eloquently as the last, clipped syllable of her name. She did not survive; the house, at last, had learned to breathe without her.