Except that now, several black moths tapped at the window. Anne watched them through the glass and wondered where they had come from. There had only been one, and that one had seemed like a shadow that had arisen from her imagination, but now there were more all the time. Anne was fairly certain that one had slipped in through a window or flitted through an open door. She spied it in a corner, though it was invisible to most people’s eyes. It was there when her father said sleep tight, when he sat down with his book in his favorite chair, when he called her his darling girl. She saw the worry
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