I can feel the nightly drizzle on my hands.
December, you say? I can’t see it. I wish I could feel it… except there’s a wish in every step we take.

The mornings are the same, but the times have changed. They feel hollow, but part of me is screaming.

Where did they go? All of them. It feels so cold, so bleak. Yet someone collided with my heart.

I hear the echoes. Maybe I’m someone else. Maybe I’m still the same. Maybe you’re someone else. Maybe you changed.

I have thirteen wishes – one of them is to make it stop. The other is to find you. Or find you again. What’s the difference?

Did it matter? To me, it did. And to you?

Where did you go? Where have you been? I just heard you walk in again. Or was it my own heartbeat?

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