The silhouette leaves a trail of bone dust in its path, like the shimmering markings of a snail. It cannot cross the threshold of a household unbidden, but windows left open are like the open petals of a flower to a hungering bee. It crawls inside with oily fingers, snout flaring, multifaceted eyes narrowed. It crawls out with slick palms, eyes green, and the edges of its mouth dripping.
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