Not what you think
Under the beam of light, the texture looked even more unusual. The tight spirals weren’t uniform—they had tiny, hair-like tips, almost like frayed ends. Some were hollow. Others looked layered. Marco reached into his coat and pulled on a pair of thin gloves. “I’m not touching it bare-handed,” he muttered. “This isn’t what you think.” Ben stepped back instinctively, his arms crossing without even thinking about it.
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