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1 " She had fallen, fallen into an endless void, and fallen into the bony fingers of Death. He was a wisp of a man, with frail limbs the color of smoke and a face shaded by a hood. His protruding eyes glowed with the brilliance of the brightest of stars, yellow irises that sent shivers down her spine. "
― Keerthi Eraniyan , Pebbles: A Collection of Short Stories