I was sitting under a lamppost. Soaking wet. Soaked in silence. I’m tired of this. Of waiting. Of chasing shadows that vanish with every step. Years… centuries… and still—nothing. I don’t believe in fate. I sure as hell don’t believe in love. And just as I think the rain might finally drown me—it stops. Not the storm. Just over me. I glance up. An umbrella. Held out. And a voice—soft, steady, human. 'Take it… or you’ll get sick' I blink. She’s standing there
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