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The Can of Baked Beans
Maggie didn't want anything to be lost. She wanted them to stay. And rot. You know, for all the fear Maggie inspired in me, I was completely unprepared to be right about her. Not the knife. I got the knife wrong, but I do think that she was a witch. In the years since then I've tried very hard to convince myself that why I saw that night was a dream, or a false memory or something - but it wasn't. The stench of that place hit me like a wave. As I looked around desperately for a patch of actual grass which I could use to support myself, my eyes fell on an unopened can of baked beans