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JJ looked up then. Really looked at him. His eyes were tired but kind, the kind of tired JJ recognized in herself; the kind that comes from long nights spent searching for meaning in the smallest fragments of memory.
She wondered what it felt like to lose someone slowly like that, to grieve them while they were still alive, breathing. Her own grief had been abrupt, like a sudden amputation. His had been erosion, slow and unforgiving. Both left ghosts behind.