The Ghost's Embroidered Shoes

"The red embroidered shoes weren't made for me. They were made for the dead." I clutched the shoe that had walked back on its own. The needle pricked my fingertip, and a drop of blood blossomed on the white bone. "Yuchi, you said you'd marry me." "Am I marrying you, or these walking shoes of yours?" His hand trembled on the hilt of his sword. His gaze was colder than any ghost I'd ever sewn. Every thread in this embroidery shop is tied to a life, and I'm sewing the final wedding dress.