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The Song With No Composer
sci-fiEveryone5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
Mira crossed the underpass toward the waving woman. Up close, the woman's face stopped her cold. It was her own face, older, with gray streaking her hair. 'I don't have long,' the older Mira said. 'I came back to warn you. Don't open the envelope tonight.'
Mira nodded and handed the envelope straight to her older self. 'Then you take it.' The older woman smiled with relief and tucked it away. 'Good girl. Now go home and sleep.' She walked off into the crowd and slowly faded. Mira went home, and the eleven notes never troubled her again.
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