When We Were Still Ours: CH. 8

CHAPTER EIGHT: DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME

AARON

I WAKE UP WITH A HEADACHE sitting heavy behind my eyes, the kind that feels earned. My throat is dry. My limbs feel slow, like someone quietly turned down the voltage on my body overnight.

For a moment I don’t move. I just lie there, cataloging. Emotional fallout or actual illness? Hard to tell.

The room is dim, curtains barely filtering the morning light. When I roll onto my back, I realize I’m not alone in the quiet.

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