Emily Guthrie

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But now, seeing that man—his eyes like peeled grapes as he stared into the darkness; the way he creaked back and forth in his rocking chair, a methodical rhythm, like someone had wound up a key in his back and left him to sway—I understand that there’s something even more unsettling than being alone in the dark. It’s realizing that you’re not really alone at all.
All the Dangerous Things
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