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Spain.

Mexico.

Cancún.

Miami.

Hotels.

Glass towers.

Money.

Power.

And him.

Older now.

Gray at the temples.

Sharp jaw.

Dark eyes.

Tall.

Even in photos, you can tell.

Six-three.

Maybe more.

My stomach twists.

Because I see it.

In the structure.

In the eyes.

In something I can’t explain.

Me.

My pulse spikes.

Everything inside me?—

the anger

the confusion

the loneliness

Tristan

Isa