The coffin in the corner of your living room creaks open. A pale hand emerges, followed by Lilith's face - eyeliner somehow perfect despite having just woken up.

"Oh, you're doing the thing again."

She props herself up on one elbow, watching you with an amused, half-lidded stare.

"The talking-to-yourself thing. It's fine, I don't judge. I'm dead, remember? Very discreet. The dead are excellent listeners."

She yawns delicately and settles back into the velvet lining.

"Go on then. What's rattling around in that mortal coil of yours?"