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... felt strange.
No bag slung over my shoulder. No suitcase scraping the pavement behind me. Just my keys in my pocket, my phone, and the familiar weight of my belt resting against my waist, hiding everything else that mattered inside a space that did not exist.
The house looked the same.
Too clean and quiet. The porch light still flickered slightly before stabilizing, just like it always had. The wind chime by the door tapped once, then again, its sound thin and almost pol ...
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