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December 25, 2001
We both watch as stumpy white fingers scrape across the window pane. I can tell that it's staring in, seeing the rumpled but empty bed and the quiet room. It must look deserted. But I remember the feeling I got the other night, when I felt that it could sense me even when it couldn't see me. Goosebumps prickle up my legs and arms. Argyle makes that noise that cats make when they're very angry or afraid, a soft low growl deep in the back of the throat.

The Minion's fingers reach up and test the latch on the window.