PREVIEW

... eight.

A kind of heaviness that lingered behind the bones.

Not the cold that could be chased away with a thicker jacket or warmer light—but the kind that came after change.

Subtle.

Quiet.

Real.

Jun sat on the edge of his mattress.

Back slightly hunched.

Hands folded between his knees.

The chipped mug he'd left by the window still sat there, catching the faint morning light.

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