Your aunt rises. "Enter."
You stand as well—you get the impression that this new arrival signals the termination of your own interview—and turn towards the door.
The person behind it is…well, there are a number of words you could use to describe them, but the one that your mind keeps reaching for is "dead." There's something irrefutable, something extremely, noticeably factual about that quality, which they possess, it has to be said, in abundance.
For starters, living people have more color in their skin, and the color that they do have isn't gray.
Their skin is also made out of, not to put too fine a point on it, skin.
There are other clues—oh so many of them—but it's the skin issue that really clinches it.
As the…person moves forward, you can make out more details. They're a girl, or at least they look very much like a girl. The shape and the major details are right, but there's more than one feature that stands out a bit too noticeably. The short black hair looks real enough, but any skin that's visible under the conservative school uniform has a metallic sheen to it, reflecting more of the lamplight than human flesh ever could. Set in a face that's much too perfectly shaped to be natural, a pair of gold-irised eyes look back at you.
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