At some point, she gazes out her bedroom window and Skeego-Monkey is floating there under a tree.
The kid would shudder, feel a small thrill of fear. But mostly Skeego-Monkey would remain an enigmatic phenomenon. Jarring and alien against the mundane backdrop of a suburban nocturne. She'd sleep with the light on, with her head under the covers, the way I used to whenever my imagination became too much for me to face a dark room and the ability to see out the window at what might be hovering there in the night.
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