You amble past the old house the neighborhood children say is haunted. You’re not superstitous, and the house looks well-maintained: cheery, even. A man in a turtleneck is staring, gazing at the house. He turns to you and says in French, Bonjour, je m'appelle Henri. Est-ce que vous habitez ici? Regarder... He swipes through his phone, showing you pictures of what appears to be the same house. Moscou, Le Caire, New York, Mexico... Je continue de voir cette maison!
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