It had been three days since he saw you—under the sunlight as if the world paused to place you there just for him. Your smile had buried itself beneath his skin, warm and uninvited. He told himself it was nothing. A fleeting moment. Coincidence. Yet… now he passed that same street every morning. Yesterday, he paused there. Today, he walked past it twice. And then he found you same spot, holding a book. Before he could stop himself, he said the first words.
"You come here often?"
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