Barely audible, her voice slips out ‘again’ so quietly you have to guess what came first., with every glance daring the viewer to come closer
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She closed her laptop gently, like it held something fragile. Maybe it did.
She didn’t play music until halfway through. That was our pattern. Build tension before sound.
She tapped her thumb against her ring finger four times. Always four. Always when nervous.
The drawer behind her opened slightly mid-scene. That’s where I kept letters she never read.
The air freshener in the corner was still half full. I gave her that scent. She said it felt like me.
The curtain swayed without breeze. I remembered the window never sealed properly.
The color of the walls had changed. But that scratch by the baseboard was still mine.
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She hesitated before taking off her hoodie. Modesty? Or memory? I caught myself leaning closer.
She blew a kiss at the camera. Same way she did before boarding that bus. The more I watched, the more it unraveled.
She rubbed her knees together like she did when waiting for tough news. I didn’t expect the flood of memory — but it hit anyway.
She rolled her eyes mid-sentence. Same sarcasm, same tone. Every detail felt intentional.
A dog barked off-screen. The same dog that used to sleep at our feet. Each second pulled me back further.
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