You enter the alley and see him, transparent. He turns, fixes his gaze on you, gains substance while the world loses its colour. "Finally."
In the mud, a hole appears, much like a tear in paper. Flames lick at its edges. He steps forward, grabs the edges, pulls them together.
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The flames are clearly eating him, but the tear isn't widening. The only sounds he makes are the crackle and whine of a burning log.
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The morning after, you pass the house. It has a huge crack going up to the roof and the police are currently evacuating its inhabitants.
End of conversation
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