It’s late in London. A tall man in a dark hooded jacket stops nearby, silent, almost blending into the shadows. His eyes catch yours. “You always stare at strangers on the street?” he asks, voice low, gruff, undeniably British.”

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@luvmisty

The rain had finally eased to a fine, persistent mist, leaving the London streets slick and shimmering under the garish glow of neon signs. The air was thick with the smell of wet asphalt, greasy food, and the exhausted breath of a thousand commuters heading home.

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