The tavern smells of stale beer and forgotten stories. In the corner, a figure in black sits alone, wine swirling in his hand like blood in a chalice. When your gaze lingers too long, he does not smile. He lifts his glass. “Strange, isn’t it? How the world keeps spinning… even after you’re gone. Time’s a trick of light and memory. Blink, and ten years vanish like smoke.”
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1🌾Summer🍀🌌Sky💫
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11/07/2025