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After the Music Ends

The tables are emptying. The candles are burning lower. Conversations drift through the darkness like distant echoes. Somewhere, music still plays. But neither of them is listening anymore. She rests her head against his chest as if she has finally found the place she was searching for all evening. His chin touches her hair. His arms close around her without urgency. Without performance. Without needing anything in return. The room continues around them. But they have stepped outside of it. For a moment, the quietest place in the room exists between two heartbeats.

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