-17--Letters to the God-

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Dear Venti,

Half a year.

Your hand is becoming cold.

Barbara tells me to give up.

I smiled today.

I was sat by you, as always, holding your hands. I wanted them to be warm. 

My mind may hate me, and deceive me, but I saw a glimmer of a smile on your face. I must be going insane.

Do not leave me hanging.

Forever holding on to your memory,

-Y/n

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