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Time, however, kept its cost. One by one, the group noticed absences that were not listed on the ledger: a line of dialogue from a film the poet had always quoted, the precise weight of a childhood bicycle, the smell of rain before thunder. These losses were not always the ones traded; they arrived like collateral fog, drifting into corners of their minds. Julian sometimes woke reaching for names that slid away like fish under lines. He learned to keep a small notebook by his bed to capture whatever surfaced.