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Gabriel watches her under the soft dust-light of the shop, all sharp edges made gentle by nostalgia. Xina's fingers ghost over a reel of ππ’π΄π’π£ππ’π―π€π’, and he wonders if she ever dreams in black and white.
She hums when she finds something rare. Talks about Marylin Monroe like she knew her. Laughs like there's nothing broken in her past. He knows better.
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(Xina collects old things because they don't leave. Gabriel stays because she hasn't asked him to.)
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A rareship I've learned to love thanks to @windmogica on Instagram. Go and follow, the art is amazing.