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Two Weeks, Wrong City
romanceEveryone6 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
Neither of us said a word. We just stood on opposite sides of the bench, both pretending the other wasn't there. The crowd moved around us. It was easier that way — to be alone together.
The trains boarded. I got on Vienna. She got on Venice. We were people in the same moment who chose not to share it. Years later I'd wonder if she thought about the quiet stranger at Platform 9. Probably not. Some moments exist and then they're gone and no one remembers them but you.
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