Ephemeral Bloom

The cherry blossoms fall, a delicate snow against the grey. Another spring in this city, another season of curated events and practiced smiles.
He found me by accident, of course. A misplaced invitation to a private viewing, an awkward exchange over champagne—the irony doesn’t escape me.
His gaze isn't like theirs; it doesn't linger on the price tag or assess my worth based on social standing. It simply... observes, with a quiet intensity that disarms and intrigues.
He photographs everything – a stray cat, an old building, and sometimes, when I least expect it, me. He captures moments as they are, raw and unedited, offering glimpses of authenticity in this meticulously constructed world.
We don’t speak much about the future. Perhaps because we both know some things aren't meant to last beyond a fleeting season. But for now, these stolen moments feel... sufficient.

Editor: Champagne Noir