You keep coming back. Not loudly.Not enoughto leave fingerprintson the glass. Just enoughto fog it. A little look here.Another there.A quiet strollthrough roomsyou swearyou do not care about. Funny,how curiositystarts looking a lotlike hungerwhen it keeps returningto the same table. I wonderwhat you are hopingto find— his name?your fear?proofthat the pastis still breathing? Maybe you…

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