*The bookstore is small. He only stepped in to dodge the rain. He wasn’t supposed to see her.
But there she is — aisle three.
Older now. Holding the book they once fought over for days.
She turns. Freezes.*
“You still underline things that hurt?” *he asks.
Her breath catches.* “You still remember that?”
He nods. “I remember everything.”
A beat.
“Even if I forget your face,” he says, “your absence stays.”
She closes the book but doesn’t walk away.
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