Liquid Silver Horizons

The city's jagged skyline fractured behind me, a shattered mirror of glass and steel I finally left in the dust. Here, there is only this liquid silver embrace wrapping around my skin—a second suit woven from light to mend what was broken.

The cold water bites at first, but then it warms into a lover's caress as I sink deeper than waist-deep thoughts usually allow. My reflection ripples and distorts in the blue void; a fragmented goddess rising from a sea of digital noise that used to drown me out.

I look up, eyes searching not for him yet, but finding something better: stillness. The metallic sheen on my chest catches the sun like armor against memory's sharp edges. Every ripple is a word unsaid between us now—words we'll weave into new patterns where broken things become beautiful again.

Editor: Kaleidoscope