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there in Mark’s old hoodie, sipping the coffee he had poured for me before he left for his run, feeling that quiet, settled kind of luck. The kind you don’t say out loud because you don’t want to jinx it.
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there in Mark’s old hoodie, sipping the coffee he had poured for me before he left for his run, feeling that quiet, settled kind of luck. The kind you don’t say out loud because you don’t want to jinx it.
ADVERTISEMENT