7.  There was a rhythm to us. Not steady - never steady - but alive. The kind that sways, misses a step, then finds a new way forward. You'd breathe, and the world would tilt a little. I'd follow, not because I knew the tune but because it felt right to move. There were nights when time hung in the air like smoke - and we spoke without words, just glances, half smiles, the hush between heartbeats that said more than sound could ever. we didnt last, but the echo of us - it still lingers, soft and slow, like something half remembered from another life...