One evening, Jim turned to Sandy, his wife who was engrossed in her book, and said, “Sandy, the little girl is waving at me again from the window.” Sandy smiled, amused by Jim’s curiosity about their tiny neighbor. She asked if he’d waved back, but Jim admitted he hadn’t. Something about the girl made him uneasy. Her gaze was intense, as if she was trying to convey a message, like she was asking for help.
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