part one

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From dawn to dusk, to dawn once more

The bird

The crow flew through the streets, past the posters celebrating the king's eighty-ninth birthday, past the little red flowers peeking through the window of the florist's shop, past the vendors calling out to passers-by in Market Road. From afar, it spotted an old three-story house, the sort of structure that stands up thanks to its memories of the past and a lot of goodwill.

A hostel.

A middle-aged woman with a bun and a basket stepped out of the back door, sending a worried glance to the grey sky, but still the crow didn't stop. It flew around the building and perched on a window.

After a moment's hesitation, it looked through the glass.

From inside, a silvery laugh came.

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