ZAJAM4K. Mala rupa uništena na ploči stola
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She entered knowing her purpose. No greeting, no explanation - only a look meaning more than a hundred words. Her eyes landed on the game like a key. We spoke different languages, but it didn't matter. Her movements were so deliberate that the silence became our dialogue, written in glances and pulse. I was drawn deeper into her rhythm. Words would have broken the fragile electricity. What bound us wasn't grammar, but a current of desire too strong to resist - a silent agreement to dissolve into the moment.