Mara's thumb stilled. The footage continued: moments she had forgotten, slipped between the pages of time—her father teaching her to ride a bike, the corner bakery that used to give out extra croissants, a paper kite tangled in power lines. Each scene was intimate and impossibly precise, filmed from angles she'd never allowed anyone to have.
Mara's thumb stilled. The footage continued: moments she had forgotten, slipped between the pages of time—her father teaching her to ride a bike, the corner bakery that used to give out extra croissants, a paper kite tangled in power lines. Each scene was intimate and impossibly precise, filmed from angles she'd never allowed anyone to have.
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