She was always a bit of a strange girl. It was in her essence, I guess. It’s what made her who she was.
I remember when she was a little girl, she would sneak out of house in the evenings and would go out to the field behind our property, shake her fist and howl, like a wolf, at the full moon. My wife would hear the wolf’s call, peek out from behind the kitchen curtains, and tell me she was at it again. I would go out to the field, fetch her, and bring her back into house.
I asked her why she did that whenever the moon was full, but she said that she didn’t know why. She said she felt some sort of compelling attachment to it, like how the moon’s gravitational pull would cause the tides to rise and fall. I suggested to…
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