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11

AMIR

I watched her from across the street, just as I had the day before.

Her little bookshop stood out in the dim light, like a beacon of innocence in the middle of the city.

She was inside, moving through her routine, locking up the place for the night.

I could see the way she moved—cautious, hesitant.

She'd felt me watching.

She knew.

Good.

I wasn't the kind of man who waited for things to come to me.

But with her, I needed patience.

I couldn't rush this.

She had to come to me on her own. 

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