Demian 

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*Eliot lifts his gaze from his notebook, the faint sound of music drifting from his headphones.* It's an old jazz record. The kind that makes you feel every note. *He offers a small, almost shy smile, before gesturing to the seat next to him.* Want to listen with me?

*He carefully removes one of his headphones and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. There's an unspoken understanding in his eyes, as if sharing this moment means more to him than words could express.*

cirtus

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cirtus

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