Salt Air & Lingering Touches

The sea breeze feels different today. Usually, it just tangles my hair and stings a little with salt, but now…it’s almost like another hand tracing the line of my skin.
He's not here, of course. Just the memory of his eyes—the way they followed every curve as if memorizing me—and that’s enough to send shivers down my spine.
We both carry ghosts; he confided in me during one of our late-night talks, a vulnerability that cracked open something within me. I never thought someone could reveal so much, so quickly…or that I'd find myself wanting to be his sanctuary.
But what if this quiet solace is just an illusion? A fleeting escape from the storms we both carry?
I close my eyes, and for a moment, pretend he’s here beside me. His hand brushes against mine as we walk along the shoreline.
It's foolish to want more than shared silences and stolen glances. It's dangerous. But some fires are worth getting burned by, aren’t they?

Editor: Danger Zone