By Jen Ellwyn
The inhospitable antique store could be easily mistaken for an indoor cemetery. It was deprived of light and cluttered with cold objects that only served as markers in memoriam of life. Very few mourners entered the store. More often, grave robbers slipped through the barred windows, passing through the panels that were as chilled and transparent as themselves.
One such thief ventured through the glass in this manner. He crept through the narrow aisles of the store while stepping carefully around corners and angling his shoulders to minimize their width in the crowded space. Vases, mirrors, and ornaments of the expensive sort were precariously perched on equally expensive glass shelving. They were each waiting for the slightest encouragement to fall and shatter. Wild-eyed and alert, the thief searched for his target. He also searched for those that would target him.
He was not alone.
A girl named Mary stood in front of the clerk’s desk, watching the thief with a cryogenic smile.
“Have you come to try again?” she asked with a false innocence.
“You are foolishly reckless, Polter.”
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