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Back of house -Picsart-AiImageEnhancer.png
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 You walk down streets you used to frequent but get lost. You see faces you recognize but can't remember. You step back into your home, but it's no longer yours.

You can't help but remember what used to be.

You’re standing somewhere you’ve been hundreds of times, but this time a chill sweeps over you; things are different. Goosebumps on your arm, maybe a gentle touch to your shoulder — although it’s not yours now, you can’t help but be drawn to everything it used to be.

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