Every time she tried to laugh, the creature in her throat caught it in his hand and pulled it back.
Everyone assumed she had no sense of humour. She developed a reputation for being overly serious. A kill joy. She couldn’t tell them the truth. Who would believe the thing that she herself had never seen?
But she knew he was there. He was the one killing the joy, stealing it from her throat.
The day she started laughing, at her grandmother’s funeral of all places, she knew that he was gone, and that her new reputation was set.
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