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... currently sitting at the doorway of the main house, muttering to himself.
The Phonograph didn’t kill me; she must still have some fondness for me.
But when she suddenly started singing, it was quite frightening.
Frightening? She sings beautifully.
No matter how well she sings, it’s futile if one day she devours you without leaving behind a single bone.
If she wanted to eat me, she would have done so already. She probably doesn’t like to eat the living.
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