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When Winter Forgets To End

whisperingmoon9
Snow began to fall without warning. Wei paused beneath the pale sky, breath held, as if the cold had whispered something only he could hear. There was a name on his lips that he could not place. A warmth in his chest he could not explain. He feels things he cannot remember. He waits for someone he cannot name. In a town where winter never seems to end, silence carries more weight than sound — and forgetting feels heavier than loss. Some winters are not made of snow. They are made of things left behind.
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