Golden Hour Reverie

The wheat field wasn't planned, of course. Neither was running away from a gallery opening, or the way his name felt like a secret on my tongue.
It began with a simple message – 'Need to escape?' – and escalated quickly into stolen moments where we allowed ourselves to just *be*. No expectations, no polished facades. Just two people seeking solace in shared quietude.
He found me here, amidst the fading light. He didn't ask about the chipped nail polish or the chaos I’d left behind; he simply offered a warm hand and an understanding gaze.
I trace the line of my collarbone with one finger, remembering how his eyes lingered there last night. A small rebellion against all the rules we both knew existed, but chose to ignore in this golden space between dusk and dawn.

Editor: Willow