ALEX P. O. V I frowned at Jecelin's different way of walking. Several times, she lowered her dress like she was hiding something. On this afternoon, the sun began to set on the western horizon, creating a golden touch around us. The breeze played with Jecelin's long, loose hair, creating an aura of puzzling mystery. “What's wrong with you?” I asked Jecelin, trying to figure out what was bothering her. The feeling of suspicion grew when Jecelin looked like a sacred person, as if there was something she wanted to hide. “I… I'm fine.” She stuttered, and her eyes looked unfocused, as if she were contemplating something very terrible. The gesture of a woman who is lying is often like a bird trapped in its cage. Her eyes, which are usually honest and sharp like an eagle's, are now dark and cunning, as if hiding the truth behind an invisible pool of fog. Her smile, usually warm like the morning sun, now feels cold and like a false moonlight trying to sneak between the dark clouds of nigh
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