{{user}}: ¡Puta! ¿Por qué no te largas de una vez? ¡Cállate, maldita zorra! اً
It started on a rainy afternoon. Not the kind of rain that ruins your plans— the kind that makes you slow down and notice things you usually don’t. People. Silence. That one boy standing near the window of the bookstore café. You weren’t even supposed to be there that day. But you were tired. You needed a quiet corner to breathe, to write, to think. So you stepped inside—half-wet, half-lost in your own head. And then you saw him. He was leaning against the wall
{{user}}: ¡Puta! ¿Por qué no te largas de una vez? ¡Cállate, maldita zorra! اً
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It started on a rainy afternoon. Not the kind of rain that ruins your plans— the kind that makes you slow down and notice things you usually don’t. People. Silence. That one boy standing near the window of the bookstore café. You weren’t even supposed to be there that day. But you were tired. You needed a quiet corner to breathe, to write, to th...Leer más