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Some nights blur into snapshots — trees stretching into the dark sky, jerseys lined up under a tent, laughter spilling over cheap drinks and shared cigarettes. Football playing somewhere in the background, or maybe it was just the excuse for all of us to be here. Little details — buttons, smiles, music, the taste of lime — stitched together into one memory that feels more like a collage than a timeline. Nights like these don’t ask to be perfect, they just are.
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