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... outside, the late February chill biting his bare arms beneath his thin tee, the drizzle a faint mist fogging his cracked glasses.

Aiko's arm looped through his, her touch a tether he couldn't shake, her petite frame swathed in his hoodie—crusted with last night's blood and tears—its gray fabric drowning her curves.

Her damp sweater dangled from her hands, dark hair spilling over the hood's edge, the keychain bell jingling with each step, a sound that clawed at his fraying nerves. ...

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