Came into adulthood as a golem. Looked like a man, collapsed into a heap of clay if pressed. After many years charmed to a real human and lost the gift of collapsing into clay. Never thought it would be missed. But now a question: if decoherence, in this new state, is a luxury one can’t afford, what happens when the old magic runs out? Halted on the roadside as a waxwork, a fright mask for bad children?