LENAThe sound of footsteps echoed in the quiet streets as we walked side by side. It was early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, casting a soft golden hue across the neighborhood. The streets were still empty, save for the occasional jogger or early riser making their way to start the day. The air felt crisp, fresh—full of possibility.Roman's hand brushed against mine, and I turned to look at him. His face was relaxed, the lines of tension I had seen so many times over the years slowly starting to fade. We had been walking like this for a while now, not saying much, but somehow knowing exactly what the other needed."Do you remember this place?" Roman asked, his voice low, almost like a whisper to himself.I glanced around. The park where we used to take the kids when they were younger, the trees now taller, the benches slightly worn, and the grass greener than I remembered. It looked almost the same, yet everything felt different. This place, these memories,
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