Salt & Ghosts

The sand still clings to my skin, like a forgotten promise. It smells of something wild and untamed – the ocean and him, mostly.

I don’t even remember how he left, only the warmth of his hand on mine as we walked into that bar, a haze of tequila and laughter blurring everything else.
Just fragments. A flash of blue eyes, the way he smelled of sandalwood and regret…

Now, the sun is a bruised peach in the sky, bleeding its color across the water. It doesn’t feel like forgiveness, not exactly. More like acceptance. Like letting go of the sharp edges of what was.
I trace patterns in the wet sand with my toes, trying to find him in the rhythm of the waves.

Maybe he's just a ghost now, a beautiful echo carried on the wind.
But this warmth…this insistent pull towards the horizon... it feels like he’s leaving something behind – a tiny spark of hope nestled deep within my bones.
I reach out and dip my fingers in the water, letting its coldness wash over me. It doesn't erase the ache, but it does quiet it, just for a little while.

And perhaps that’s enough.

Editor: Dusk Till Dawn