Then Abby saw them, the couple who’d visited her at the studio a few weeks back. Yes, it was them—the dark-haired one was carrying the baby, the blonde followed. They were wandering up the driveway, plucking honeysuckle from a bush and pulling stems through to extract drops of honey. The sight made Abby flash back to an early memory: Kenny placing drops of honeysuckle on her tongue. How old had she been? Four? Five? They used to pretend that the nectar gave them superpowers: hers was invisibility, his was strength. She remembered the feeling of wanting more, but the second she could taste the
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