08

-04-

The morning sun kissed my room with soft warmth, its rays slipping through the lace curtains and sketching delicate patterns across the bed. Humming under my breath, I worked on a tune that had been stuck in my head since Ammiโ€™s last cooking session. Her melodies always stayed with me, as if clinging to the air long after she stopped singing.

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Dramaticwriter1

When fiction feels like therapy.ห– ึด๐™š