Core Ignition

The rain hammered against the window, a relentless percussion like a booster engine struggling for thrust. He found me like this - almost dormant, shellshocked from another week of city grit.
He didn’t need to say anything; just arrived with that steady heat radiating from him, filling the room's chill. A simple offering – Earl Grey, black, two sugars – a ritual as reliable as an engine core firing up.
His hand brushed my arm as he passed, brief contact, but enough. Like the surge of energy when a circuit closes, a spark in the quiet hum of fatigue.
He said it was just rain outside. But I knew better. It was the steady burn of him, easing the pressure, bringing everything back online.
He didn't need to fix me; he simply held space for my return. And that, after the constant overload, felt like a whole universe in itself.

Editor: Titanium Pulse