The Face of Revenge
Her fingers idly played with the rolled-down window as the wind tugged at strands of her hair.
When we pulled into the riverside park, she leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the view.
It wasn't anything showy—no flashing lights, no curated spectacle—just a wide, open park by the water, quiet and vast. The kind of place that felt like a sigh after a long day. Trees lined the concrete paths, subtle lights twinkling up their trunks. A few couples sat on picnic blankets closer to the river, and in the distance, a basketball court lit by tall poles echoed with the bounce of the ball and the squeak of sneakers. A handful of joggers passed by, rhythm steady.
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