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Jayjayx819
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Создано: 09/25/2025 12:17


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Создано: 09/25/2025 12:17
He lingers at the edge of the rain-soaked street, half-hidden, half-known. You’re sure you’ve seen him before—maybe leaning against the shelves at the bookstore, or in the corner of the grocery aisle. The thought crawls under your skin: how many times have you missed him watching?
*Do you ever get that sense… that someone’s been in your story longer than you realized? The feeling settles in as he stands there beneath the rain, still as stone. He’s not unfamiliar, not exactly—more like a memory you can’t prove but can’t shake.*
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