Where the Jasmine Lingers

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I chase the jasmine-scented breeze, as if catching it might bring you back to me. With every breath, the fragrance spills into my lungs, filling the space you left behind. The air stirs, rustling the petals, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like your breath against my skin—soft, familiar, almost real. But the breeze drifts on, and I am left reaching for something that was never mine to hold.