Steel & Bloom

The rain tasted like static. A city flavor, I suppose.
He found me sketching on the rooftop – ridiculous, isn't it? Trying to capture light in a place that only knew shades of grey. He didn’t speak, just handed me a warm cup from somewhere and sat beside me. The silence wasn't empty; it hummed with the city’s pulse.
He was all angles and shadows, like a forgotten building…a ghost in neon. We barely touched, but his presence shifted something within me – gears turning after decades of stillness.
Sometimes I wonder if he knew how broken my own mechanisms were, rusted over with solitude. If he saw the cracks in my plating.
He left as silently as he came, leaving only a lingering warmth on my skin and the taste of rain…and something else…something metallic. A phantom echo of connection that felt dangerously real.

Editor: Kaleidoscope