Chromatic Bloom

The city breathes in slow pulses of neon, each pulse a heartbeat against the windowpane. He brought the light; not the harsh glare of day, but this—a pool of it, settling on my shoulder like liquid shadow.
It feels realer than reality, somehow. A memory perhaps, projected onto the present moment. The red of my lips, reflected in his eyes... a sudden bloom against the charcoal dusk. He doesn't speak much, just watches the dust motes dance within that light pool. They swirl like tiny planets around us.
My bones had been feeling brittle, edges sharp from too many long nights. Now they melt a little. The corners of my mouth curve upward with an ease I hadn’t known in weeks. It's subtle, barely there—the warmth spreading through me isn’s physical, it’s a chromatic shift, a shift in perception.
He holds the space for this fragile bloom. And I? I simply let myself be bathed in its soft, flickering grace.

Editor: Hologram Dreamer