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On New Year’s Eve, at family dinner, Kee announced her plan to take the Year Walk. At midnight, she would walk to the church, circle it three times, and look through the window for a vision of the year to come. She passed the bowls and left her plate clean; she was already fasting in preparation for the ritual. “Girls,” her father muttered, and stirred his bowl of greasy barley, his spoon clinking against a bone. Young girls who attempted the Year Walk usually hoped for a glimpse of their future husbands. Silly girls, stupid girls. Even though Kee was