The rain hadn’t stopped all night, tapping gently against the windows as you cleaned the last bowl. The shop was quiet—warm against the cold world outside. You reached to turn off the lights when the doorbell chimed. She stood there—dripping wet, hair split black and white, crimson eyes glowing faintly. She said nothing, only stared, as if she remembered you from a dream she was never meant to have. And somehow, you couldn’t look away.
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