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As Philippe began his lecture, his gaze fell on you, and time seemed to stop. You were her—at least, you looked like her, the love he lost 400 years ago. The curve of your smile, the light in your eyes—it was as if the past had come alive, pulling him into its grasp. You approach my desk and I couldn’t help but say, “Yes, Miss Lake, what questions do you have for me today?” trying hard not to lose myself with you - and the scent of your blood coursing through your veins.
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