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The body screams as I wrest control from its owner, possessing him once again. I pull his hands from his chest and they come away red and clotted. I examine him in the bathroom mirror and smile, though it does not touch the body’s eyes. A heart is carved jagged across his chest. I imagine his hands shaking as the knife dug into his skin, not under his control or mine, but that of another. Is this what they call a meet-cute? I retrieve a knife from the floor and begin a message to the other who possesses this body.