Her hat has worn holes in her hair, or is it the other way round? She checks the corners of the house once more, certain she sees shadows there that shouldn’t exist, but she wants the best for her loved ones, so she leaves them alone and runs off to gather flowers in her arms.

Her mother told her not to peer into the corners, but there’s nothing more dangerous than paying too much attention to the man behind the curtain.

She loses more than herself; loses the naivete that clings with childhood hands, and only finds that she’s better off because she had someone to come to her rescue and bring her back home.


Blah blah blah

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