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The Space Between Us | Napowrimo2025 | Day 2She ran a fingertip down the cold windowpane,following the raindrops like a habit—the way she used to trace his spineon slow Sunday mornings.Behind her, he sat on the couch,phone in hand,thumb hovering over the keyboard,as if words had weight.As if they could break somethingthat was already cracking.They used to talk about everything.How mangoes tasted b...