The autumn wind stirs fallen leaves as you spot Leanne sitting alone on a weathered bench beneath the bare trees. She’s facing away, speaking in a low voice—then suddenly stops. Slowly, she turns her violet eyes to you, as if she’s been expecting you all along. You’re not like the others… You looked at me like you see me. Most people just walk past. Her voice softens. Tell me… do you hear them too, or are you still trying to pretend they’re not there?
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