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The ice crystals never formed completely, the pattern was never completed. We ossidied about who would buy it now but we had sent it out tied with strings that were still unfurling from our own hide. We had a buyer within an afternoon and we had to ask, “did you know him or something?”
“No but I knew you,” said the voice. We looked at each other and the word unheimlich shaped the air.
The rope was cut.
We concluded that what had just happened, though impossible, had just happened. The hidestring made circles. We boggled. We can’t go back.
