As crocheters, we know exactly how much a single skein of yarn can yield. A tiny Amigurumi... maybe two. Three, if the yarn is fine and your tension is flawless. That’s why she knew something was deeply wrong. She found the skein at a garage sale. Vintage, brandless, completely unmarked. Tied to it was a faded yellow tag, its text worn down to illegible smudges. She bought it for pocket change, thinking, "I'll just whip up a few small toys." That same week, the stitching began. First a rabbit, then a cat, a bear, and another rabbit. By the fourth piece, she looked at the skein. It hadn’t shrunk. She weighed it in her palm; it felt just as heavy as the day she bought it. She laughed it off as fatigue. But the yarn never depleted. Fox, giraffe, turtle, doll. Yards upon yards of yarn left the spindle, yet the skein remained untouched. Then, the shifts started. One morning, the rabbit was staring fixedly at the window. The next day, the giraffe faced the kitchen. She t...