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... and muffled conversations that sounded too rehearsed to be honest.

Pipe smoke drifted through the air like it was looking for distracted ears, and the candles scattered across the tables cast trembling shadows that seemed to whisper stories no one dared say out loud.

I leaned against the counter, elbow planted over a stain I chose not to investigate, and in front of me, the young man began to speak — not like someone remembering, but like someone reliving.

"Once. Over a ...

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