But he felt fear, in that moment. The dreamcatcher is now in here, suspended from the ceiling and spinning slowly above the gray thing's head. There were zig-zags of melting snow, some of it turning yellow where it was oozing into the damp ground. Like some fucked-up Rockette.
“Directly to the core, Mr. ” Silence. He better be; he and his wife have a houseful of kids, and if there aren't at least a few salary-bumps in his future, life is apt to be a pretty tough scramble. The point is, they're losing.
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