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He doesn’t leave. He points to the meditation bell. Then to his ear. Then to her lips. The GROUNDSKEEPER (30s, flannel shirt, quiet confidence) holds her leather journal. He extends it. She nods. Thanks him silently. Lana sits cross-legged on a woven rug. She hears a floorboard creak. She looks up. Low light. A single candle. A thin wall separates them from the main lodge. |
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