Analysing them

The minutes dragged. Ben found himself pacing the garden, boots squelching in the dew-soaked grass, occasionally crouching to peer under the porch again. The eggs sat exactly as before, stacked in clusters that seemed almost deliberate. They were smooth, slightly off-white, with a faint matte sheen that glowed faintly in the morning light. He noticed tiny specks along some shells, but without touching them, he couldn’t tell if they were dirt, stains, or something more unsettling.
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