“Nix,” I said, and her name was a poem. She tilted her face up to the dawn; my lips met hers. She pressed close to me, and then there was no past, no future – only now. No her, no me. Only us.”
“Nix,” I said, and her name was a poem. She tilted her face up to the dawn; my lips met hers. She pressed close to me, and then there was no past, no future – only now. No her, no me. Only us.”
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