PREVIEW

... on the track.

Hers was a gentle, sweet voice, like an evening when the day’s heat relents.

I was fresh out of the track, still gasping for breath, and thus unable to respond to her words. She approached me with a towel and I grabbed it instinctively. Was it really okay to use it though? The sweet smell of the softener tickled my nostrils, and I hesitated.

“You’re not wiping your sweat off?”

She asked while I was struggling with my doubts in silence, tilting her he ...

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