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TWENTY-SEVEN

Your mom talked to me again.

This time, she's worried.

I quickly left my job just to find you despite of the cold temperature.

I walked and walked until I found you.

You're sitting outside the near bar in your café, holding a bottle and bitterly drank what's inside it.

You look like a mess.

But still, a beautiful mess for me.

The Truth Untold | k.sj ✓Where stories live. Discover now