It was a rainy afternoon in the city, the kind that invites you to take refuge in a coffee shop with a good book. I was in my own bubble, reviewing scripts for my next session, when a guy sat down at the table next to me. He had an easy smile and eyes that sparkled even in the dim light. I don’t know how it started, but suddenly we were talking. About everything and nothing. About books, travels, those small dreams we keep. The conversation flowed so easily that hours passed without us even realizing it.The rain was still pouring outside, and the chemistry between us was palpable. We ended up sharing a dessert and, without anyone saying it aloud, we knew the night couldn’t end there. He invited me to his apartment, ‘to continue the conversation,’ he said with a chuckle. One thing led to another. That spontaneity, that instant connection with a stranger, was electrifying. It wasn’t planned, there were no preambles beyond the sincere chat, and that made it even more real and exciting. It was proof that the best stories sometimes aren’t written, they just happen
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