Alone in her room, Penelope was looking at herself in her hand mirror, studying her new nose. It was her own. Her own face. She reached up to touch it for the hundredth time when she heard her mother say, "It's not going to grow back," she said softly, pausing briefly before adding: "I know... I miss it too. And then I remember you're still you."
(
The curse was so simple: Me. One of my own kind. I'd had the power all along. )
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