PREVIEW
... m. The place smelled like burnt sugar and wet wood, that thick cozy stink that makes city people pretend they are somewhere softer. She was where I left her in my head, same corner table, hoodie up, no makeup, fingers curled around a cup gone cold enough to have forgotten it was ever hot.
"Didn’t think you’d actually reply," I said, sitting down opposite her. My voice sounded too loud in that small space.
"Didn’t think you’d actually show." She kept her eyes low. They looked like ...
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