The campaign had been going for three weeks in earnest when things took a turn for the deeply bizarre for Henry. His dreams had been curious things since his meeting with Ms. Kowen at her gallery, full of crawling, slithering, half-seen monstrosities, nightmares of the sort he had not had since childhood. Some few of these images seemed to stalk him in his waking hours, as well, and he began to wonder if the stress of campaigning again was wearing on his mind. Maybe he wasn’t up for doing this again, he wondered.
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