You were about eight. You suffered night terrors - these awful fits of pure fear. You were terrified of an old woman you said used to come visit you at night.
I dismissed your stories. I told you to grow up.
Then I saw her for myself.
At first I thought it was a camera problem. Then I saw her again.
In each photo, she got closer...
...and closer...
...and closer to you.
In the back of your mind, you're still afraid to have your picture taken...
... aren't you?
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