
We were walking down the street, now in the depth of winter, covered in snow. You were almost too confident, brushing your shoes on the thick coat of snow as my sight diverged. Anxiety trailed along a thin streak of tear that rolled down my face, and then I lowered my head just to hide it away from you.
Our footsteps seemed surreal. Have we walked so far just to part? Why am I always the one who stands and wave? Why does everyone turn away from me?
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