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14 pages, Audiobook
First published September 2, 2025
“And it hits me. I love this woman. I don’t know when it happened. It slipped over me so softly, like the changing of seasons. The seeping scent of baked bread first thing in the morning. A wistful sigh on a perfect fall day. I love Michelle. I’ve loved her for far too long.”
“He knows how to make people feel seen. Sometimes too seen. He’s so different from me. If I’m autumn, he’s spring. He’s all smiles and glowing warmth.”
“Men don’t want women like me.” “Like what?” Unfun, too serious, workaholics. “I don’t know,” I mumble. He gives a devilish, absolutely wicked smile. “I think men secretly want women just like you,” he growls, leaning even closer. “And the men who don’t are cowards.”
“Copper Run smells like crunching leaves and breezes that bite.”
❝ᥲᥒd it hits mᥱ.. i doᥒ't kᥒow whᥱᥒ it hᥲρρᥱᥒᥱd. it sᥣiρρᥱd ovᥱr mᥱ so softᥣყ, ᥣikᥱ thᥱ ᥴhᥲᥒgiᥒg of sᥱᥲsoᥒs. thᥱ sᥱᥱρiᥒg sᥴᥱᥒt of bᥲkᥱd brᥱᥲd first thiᥒg iᥒ thᥱ morᥒiᥒg. ᥲ wistfυᥣ sigh oᥒ ᥲ ρᥱrfᥱᥴt fᥲᥣᥣ dᥲყ.❞
❝ "mᥱᥒ doᥒ't wᥲᥒt womᥱᥒ ᥣikᥱ mᥱ."
"ᥣikᥱ whᥲt?"
“υᥒ fυᥒ, too sᥱrioυs, workᥲhoᥣiᥴs. i doᥒ't kᥒow," i mυmbᥣᥱ.
hᥱ givᥱs ᥲ dᥱviᥣish, ᥲbsoᥣυtᥱᥣყ wiᥴkᥱd smiᥣᥱ.
"i thiᥒk mᥱᥒ sᥱᥴrᥱtᥣყ wᥲᥒt womᥱᥒ jυst ᥣikᥱ ყoυ," hᥱ growᥣs, ᥣᥱᥲᥒiᥒg ᥱvᥱᥒ ᥴᥣosᥱr.
"ᥲᥒd thᥱ mᥱᥒ who doᥒ't ᥲrᥱ ᥴowᥲrds." ❞
❝i doᥒ't wᥲᥒt to rᥱmovᥱ hᥱr wᥲᥣᥣs bᥱᥴᥲυsᥱ thᥲt'd dᥱstroყ hᥱr strᥱᥒgth, bυt i'd kiᥣᥣ for morᥱ ρᥱᥱks iᥒto thᥱ othᥱr sidᥱ.❞
lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
❝ …iᥒ thᥱ ᥴᥱᥒtᥱr of thᥱ ᥣobbყ is thᥱ oᥒᥣყ womᥲᥒ who ᥴoυᥣd mᥲkᥱ ᥲ rᥲiᥒყ dᥲყ sᥱᥱm ᥒot hᥲᥣf bᥲd. mᥲყbᥱ it's bᥱᥴᥲυsᥱ shᥱ's ᥲ biggᥱr storm ᥴᥣoυd, ᥲᥒd i ᥣikᥱ thᥲt ᥲboυt hᥱr. ❞
❝ …hᥱ kᥒows how to mᥲkᥱ ρᥱoρᥣᥱ fᥱᥱᥣ sᥱᥱᥒ. somᥱtimᥱs too sᥱᥱᥒ. hᥱ's so diffᥱrᥱᥒt from mᥱ. if i'm ᥲυtυmᥒ, hᥱ's sρriᥒg.
hᥱ's ᥲᥣᥣ smiᥣᥱs ᥲᥒd gᥣowiᥒg wᥲrmth.❞
╰┈➤ ❝There she goes again, racing through my brain; and I just can’t contain, this feeling that remains❞
╰┈➤ ❝Anyway, thanks for that.❞ ❝For what?❞ ❝Listening.❞ ❝You talk so much; it’s hard not to.❞
╰┈➤ ❝He’s so different from me. If I’m autumn, he’s spring. He’s all smiles and glowing warmth. His blue eyes are so deep, like the first beautiful clear sky of the season. He likes to rest them on my breeze-blown hair, drift them down to my painted lips or to the cardigan falling off my shoulder.❞
╰┈➤ ❝You’re a kind man with a great personality.❞ ❝People only say that about ugly people. ❞