They did not unpack the past that night. Instead they sat on the floor near the window and told small stories that made the rest of the city feel like a background hum. Mina listened and thought of the rooftop, the chest, the ways people bury things so they can breathe again. The shop felt full in a way that had nothing to do with objects; it was full with the sound of two people finding their way back into the same story.
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