She believed in mornings that tasted like cold coffee, in bus tickets folded into origami cranes, in the way a voicemail could become a prayer if you listened long enough. What she did not believe in was the finality of a goodbye.
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¿Te gustaría que te recomiende otros sobre superación personal y desamor que estén disponibles en plataformas abiertas? She believed in mornings that tasted like cold