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... couch, the afternoon light spilling through her apartment's window, painting the worn rug in soft gold. The air smelled of fresh coffee and the faint tang of her charcoal pencils, scattered across the coffee table beside her sketchpad. His guitar rested against his knee, the leather strap's stars glinting faintly, a tether to his mom's quiet pride. The Drift's gig was eleven days away, Shatterpoint at twelve thousand listens, Flicker nearing four thousand, and their Hollow video pushing twenty- ...

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