Her voice had no weight to it, like feathers. It was neither gloomy nor absentminded, as might be expected of someone who

Her voice had no weight to it, like feathers.

It was neither gloomy nor absentminded, as might be expected of someone who was ill.

But it wasn’t bright or light-hearted either.

It was the quiet tone of a person who didn’t belong anywhere, someone who had passed into a border area between states of being.

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