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Proserpina

He shows her where the film feeds from its reel into the intricate wheels of the Kinetoscope, and holds the stock up before a single hot bulb to show her the nearly-identical frames.

“Now blink like this,” Elijah says, “that many times a second, and watch–”

His hand is on hers, cranking the handle; Corbett’s fist withdraws before her eyes, and Fitzsimmons’s head whips around.

“I should be getting back,” Proserpina says, at last and with regret.

“Come by Saturday,” he says.

“You know I can’t–”

“Say I kidnapped you.”

“They’d never believe,” she says dryly, “you won that struggle.”

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