But tonight, she was home.

Not for food. For justice.

"What is this? A lost little ghost?"

She smiled. Not cruelly. Almost kindly.

She folded her own hands in her lap and listened to the silence. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled — not in fear, but in greeting.

The town of Bad City no longer had a name for itself. The oil pumps had stopped nodding years ago, and the only thing that moved after midnight was the wind — and the girl.

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