
(Siddharth’s Point of View)
It was the weekend, and the city was still asleep when I opened my eyes. The clock on the wall showed five. The first light from the window had just begun to spill across the curtains—thin, gold, hesitant.

(Siddharth’s Point of View)
It was the weekend, and the city was still asleep when I opened my eyes. The clock on the wall showed five. The first light from the window had just begun to spill across the curtains—thin, gold, hesitant.
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