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7

MARIANA

The evening light was starting to fade, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets as I closed up the bookshop.

The day had been slow, and my thoughts kept drifting back to him.

The man from earlier.

I couldn't shake the feeling he'd left behind, like an invisible presence still lurking in the shop, even though he was long gone.

I stepped outside, locking the door behind me, and breathed in the cool evening air.

Mexico City was always alive, buzzing with energy.

But tonight, something felt different.

I glanced around, feeling uneasy again.

There was no one there—just a few people hurrying home, the distant sound of cars and street vendors packing up for the night.

But it was the same feeling I'd had before, like someone was watching.

Stop being paranoid, I told myself. It's just your imagination.

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