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She pushed open the door and the bell chimed a single, low note. Inside, mannequins stood in impossible poses, half-shadowed, their fabric shimmering like wet oil. Each outfit throbbed with a faint pulse, like a sleeping thing.

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“Looking for something specific?” asked the clerk — thin, androgynous, with pupils like polished obsidian. Their voice was soft, as if the words fell through cotton. She pushed open the door and the bell