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Summary
He never swam in it. Never skipped stones across it. He had told Jisung once, years ago, that the lake felt hungry, and Jisung had laughed—not cruelly, but with the warmth of someone who finds the dark corners of another person's mind charming rather than frightening.
It's just water, Jisung had said. Water doesn't want anything.
This year, it takes Jisung.
Series
- Part 8 of all my sweetest devastations