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The non-conformist with the stubborn, or perhaps determined, chin has been in the room for five seconds. If you were in the room, you would have already decided if you were going to be friends. You would have noticed the slightly slinking gait, the tip of the finger gently running along the cold stone. The pause before entering the chamber completely. But if you were in the room you would understand the strangeness of this place. When anyone enters the house of masks, memories are forgotten.
On confident danger
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