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On day twenty-one, the alley was crowded. Shadow-people stood under the lantern, featureless and thin, all facing the same direction. The orange cat now sat at the feet of the nearest one. The ramen shop’s sign had changed from Japanese to a language that looked like melted cursive. The hum in her chest had become a voice—hers, but not. “Let us in,” it whispered. “You’ve been looking at us. Now we want to look at you.”

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