Salt & Shadow

The sand bit at my toes, a familiar sting. Not unpleasant.
He found me like this, tracing the wet line of shells with his thumb. Didn’t say much. Just watched the tide pull back, exposing more of the grey rocks. I smelled sunscreen and something else…salt and a ghost of woodsmoke from last night's bonfire.
My shoulders were tight, used to holding it all in – the city noise, the expectations.
He didn’t ask about it. Didn’t need to. He just reached out, slow, careful, and brushed a stray strand of hair off my face. His fingers lingered there, warm against my skin.
It wasn't grand gestures or whispered promises. Just that simple touch, grounding me in this messy, beautiful moment.
The sun bled orange into the water, painting everything with a bruised light.
I tilted my head back, letting him pull me closer. The wind whipped through my hair, tasting of freedom and something dangerously close to surrender.
He smelled like rain and possibility. And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like running.

Editor: Street-side Poet