He could see into the past.
Even at his young age he knew better than to tell people. Grown ups talked behind their hands when children were different.
His dad collected coins, and whenever he let him hold them, he could see the lives of everyone who had held them before him.
At first it was overwhelming. Like a video being played too fast. But now that he was older, he could isolate the lives that lay in the palm of his hand.
He refused to hold the farthing though. Once was enough.
Because the bad man had held it.
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