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AISASEA.PH_
AISASEA.PH_
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Saturday 26 October 2024 11:00:00 GMT
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shanta0838
🥰Shanta🥰 :
price
2024-10-27 15:15:25
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chamu :
wow price please
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mehboobalam8178 :
price
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dónde venden y cuánto cuesta
2024-11-16 04:17:13
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We stood on the empty subway platform, the air thick with dampness, smelling of wet concrete and old iron. The flickering lights cast cold, uneven shadows across his face. Penny, as always, had his hands buried in the pockets of his worn jacket, which carried the faint scent of rain. He tilted his head slightly, a strand of hair falling over his eyes. In that moment, he felt both impossibly close and completely out of reach. I stared at the timetable, the silent numbers promising a train that never seemed to arrive. The weight of a loop I couldn’t break pressed against my chest. “Have you noticed we never talk when it matters?” The words spilled out before I could stop them, echoing off the tiled walls, and I instantly regretted them. He turned slowly, his gaze heavy, as though he was fighting something deep inside. “We don’t talk… or we don’t listen?” His voice was low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine. He stepped closer, and the space around us seemed to shrink. I caught his scent—warm, with hints of cedar and tobacco. His fingers, calloused from working with wood, brushed against my cheek, yet the touch was unbearably tender. He leaned in, his breath mingling with mine. When he kissed me, it felt like falling into darkness: nothing existed but us. The rumble of the arriving train tore through the silence, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. When I opened my eyes, he had already turned away, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, as though the moment had been too fragile to hold. “Come on, or we’ll miss it,” he said casually, but I saw the way his lips still trembled...💙🤍
We stood on the empty subway platform, the air thick with dampness, smelling of wet concrete and old iron. The flickering lights cast cold, uneven shadows across his face. Penny, as always, had his hands buried in the pockets of his worn jacket, which carried the faint scent of rain. He tilted his head slightly, a strand of hair falling over his eyes. In that moment, he felt both impossibly close and completely out of reach. I stared at the timetable, the silent numbers promising a train that never seemed to arrive. The weight of a loop I couldn’t break pressed against my chest. “Have you noticed we never talk when it matters?” The words spilled out before I could stop them, echoing off the tiled walls, and I instantly regretted them. He turned slowly, his gaze heavy, as though he was fighting something deep inside. “We don’t talk… or we don’t listen?” His voice was low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine. He stepped closer, and the space around us seemed to shrink. I caught his scent—warm, with hints of cedar and tobacco. His fingers, calloused from working with wood, brushed against my cheek, yet the touch was unbearably tender. He leaned in, his breath mingling with mine. When he kissed me, it felt like falling into darkness: nothing existed but us. The rumble of the arriving train tore through the silence, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart. When I opened my eyes, he had already turned away, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, as though the moment had been too fragile to hold. “Come on, or we’ll miss it,” he said casually, but I saw the way his lips still trembled...💙🤍

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