En France Anne Pierre Chloe or Elodie
I should have kept it to myself.Walking on fallen blossom leaves, the tree-lined boulevard carried the scent of hope. In a brief interlude of sunlight, we basked in the first warmth of spring. Fingers entwined, her expression pensive and doleful, we stopped for a moment under a weathered statue; it must have looked glorious once.I used to enjoy the silences, now it felt awkward. Tugging my hand, she embraced me, her head against my chest. The citrus tone of her perfume evoked last summer, that...
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