Ephemeral Echoes

The city exhaled a cold breath, but he found me. A silhouette against the relentless grey.
I hadn't sought refuge in this forgotten park; it simply *was*. Like the quiet ache that settled after his texts arrived – unbidden, unexpected.
He said he remembered the way light caught my hair that first day, a fleeting gold. He remembers things I thought lost to shadow.
His hand brushed mine as he handed me the coffee, a spark in the chill. A simple gesture, yet it felt like a recalibration of something essential within me.
We don’t speak of futures, only of the spaces between moments. And for now, this fragile stillness is enough.

Editor: Monochrome Ghost