"Will be back. Wait if you can."
I scoffed internally when I beheld this sentence for the first time. Of course I can wait, I thought. I shall be here when you return.
But seven months have past.
Still no other word from you.
Now what I have left are snippets of your words.
Wait if you can. The last words reverberate through my mind. Leaving echos, trailing lightly through my mind, leaving indelible yet subtle traces as a memento of their existence.
It's been seven months.
Come back soon.
I'll be here waiting.
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