Moonchild
First, it was the sent, it sent shivers down her spine.
“Good Morning.”
Second, it was the voice. November’s back stiffens. She sat very still in her chair, her hands gripping the book she was holding.
She bit her lip, her heart started pounding against her chest. The hairs on her nape stood on its end, there was a feeling of rush, a feeling of something inside her wanting to claw its way out.
“Morning! How can I help you today?”
Human.
“Hello.”
“So what book would it be today, Son?”
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