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The fluorescent light seemed to dim. The fridge hum shifted into a lower, more intimate key.

“Excuse me,” he said. His voice was quiet, like radio static. marks head bobbers serina

“It is to me,” he said. “And you’re the only one who might understand. Because I see you, Serina. When you nod, you’re not agreeing. You’re mourning. Every bob is a little grave you dig for your own words.” The fluorescent light seemed to dim