A gentle breeze danced around them as they walked through the bustling city to their destination. They walked in a way that was familiar to them: feet in sync, in a rhythm all their own, two bodies moving side by side but never quite touching. A few times, her hand casually brushed his. She never dared utter an apology, for fear of bringing up something so taboo in their friendship. She curiously wondered if the same thought was playing out in his head. His aversion to her gaze told her it was definitely a possibility and she reveled in that thought.
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I found this in my old sketchbook earlier. Wishful thinking? Imagination? But maybe, just maybe, it was grounded in something a bit more tangible.
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