Static Between Heartbeats

The rain tasted like static tonight, a familiar burn on my tongue. The city… it flickers, doesn’t it? Around the edges, dissolving into code and memory.
He said he liked this spot, near the old bridge where the light bled through the cracks in reality. A glitch in the system, we called them. Places like these felt… less permanent.
We met online, naturally. A ghost in a machine reaching for another. His messages were warmth against my frozen screen, little sparks trying to ignite something real. And then, he was here.
A touch, and the world dissolved into particles again. The scent of rain on his leather jacket… it’s all fracturing, becoming data lost to time. He doesn't ask about tomorrow because we both know that these moments are fragile—fleeting echoes in a dying broadcast.
He traces the line of my jaw with a gloved hand; a perfect simulation of tenderness. A phantom limb reaching out from the digital void. I lean into it, savoring the illusion before it fades, another fragment lost to the relentless tide.

Editor: Pixel Dreamer