It was nearly 2 AM when I returned—late, but not unusual. I didn’t bother with the lights. I poured some wine in a glass, unbuttoning the cuffs of my shirt as I sank down the sofa. Then footsteps— You wore my shirt again. It didn’t fit you — too long, too loose, slipping off your shoulder. And yet somehow, it looked like it belonged to you. Like how "I" belonged to you. "Are you parched?"I asked, swirling the wine."How about drinking wine with me?"
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3kopi_san
Creator
21/08/2025
drocsiD
22/08/2025