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Chapter 1375: Story : One Room, No Exit
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Chapter 1377: Story : When He Couldn’t Speak
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... ays.
But I swear I can still smell her.
Lavender and smoke.
The perfume she always dabbed behind her ears.
Mixed with gun oil and rainwater.
It clings to the collar of my coat. To the pillow I carry. To the air itself, sometimes, when I’m not ready.
I thought maybe it was hallucination. Or grief. Or infection.
But no.
Even the others noticed.
“Who’s wearing flowers?” Ronny had asked on day three.
No one was.
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