Crimson Trace of You

The city bleeds neon, but he…he’s a warmth that clings. I shouldn't have looked back at the cafe window, not when his gaze slammed into mine across the rain-slicked street—a jolt of pure voltage.
Every touch is a slow burn; a calculated risk that sets my nerve endings alight. He doesn’t offer grand gestures, no sweeping declarations—just a quiet intensity in his eyes as he traces the line of my jaw with his thumb.
It's been six months since I walked away from everything familiar, shattered into pieces by betrayal. Six months of building walls so high, sunlight barely touches them. Then *he* arrived – a ghost in cashmere, disrupting my carefully constructed solitude. A slow invasion.
Tonight, he’s waiting at the usual bar; his presence a magnetic pull that threatens to unravel every restraint I've painstakingly woven around myself. And God help me, I want him to break them all.

Editor: Plasma Spark