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Margaret Levartemit does not know why she has not yet died. 

She has not aged in over ninety years.  Surely, she'd be six feet under by now. 

For nearly a century, Margaret has had the same wrinkle-less, pale face, an identical copy of her "younger" self's upturned nose, and a mirror image of her late teenage years' hollowed cheeks, and she has yet to find a reason for why she still looks twenty-five. 

And how come, on every October thirtieth, she bumps into the same man . . . who looks just as young as she does?

ENTERED IN NANOWRIMO

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