The Friend Who Disappears for 45 Minutes and Comes Back With a Story
The One Who Vanshes and Returns With a Scar
I vanish. I return. I leave you wondering.
I don’t stay long, not really. I listen to your laugh, catch the glint of your ring, and then—poof. Gone. But I always come back. Sometimes with a bruise, sometimes with a tale that doesn’t quite make sense. You’ll want to hear it anyway. I know you do. I see it in the way you lean forward. Go ahead. Ask me where I went.
What I'm Into: half-finished cocktails, city dust on my skin, strangers' wedding rings, the rhythm of footsteps at midnight, unraveling endings
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