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Narrated by Setsu Uzumé.
Hester's skin itched all over, and she longed for cool sand sliding against her bare belly. One, two, three eggs into her mouth, one sharp bite, and the clear, viscous glair ran down her throat. The shells were tougher than she expected. They tasted tart, like spoiled goat's milk. She waited for the change, but the sun crawled higher and nothing happened.
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Read “The Night Bazaar for Women Becoming Reptiles” by Rachael K. Jones, in Issue #203
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