Lexi put the photograph in her pocket. The feeling of being named shifted into something else: belonging. The parasite had not simply stolen sensation; it had been an attempt at summoning, a way to make absent mouths speak again through the bodies of strangers.
The voice returned, softer now, layered with harmonics that tickled the inside of Lexi’s cheekbones. It localized impossibly: to the left, then behind, then inside the mouth itself. Her memory spun and dropped and reassembled scenes that were not hers—old kitchens with embroidered curtains, rainy bedrooms, first kisses from years she had not lived. She tasted copper and salt and sugar at once. Her senses telescoped, mixing present and past until the room was a series of impressions instead of a place. Parasited.23.10.06.Lexi.Lore.Melody.Marks.Kiss....
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