The whispers Emily heard, no one else did, except for her cat. They
echoed faintly up the heating duct in a woman's voice which told her
about cold november days and hot syrup poured on snow.
One warm August day, the whispers stopped, replaced by giggling in
both female and male timbers and then nothing.
She'd all but forgotten when Emily next heard the voice, which had
aged and had lost its mimbsy. It was quite direct, "Say 'no,' Emily,"
the voice said, "to Billy," but the doorbell had rung and Emily had
gone to play with the new neighbor.