Submerged Silence

The city is a collection of glass towers and relentless notifications, a cacophony that never truly sleeps. But here, beneath the turquoise surface, the noise dissolves into nothingness.

I let the water hold me. It is heavy, cool, and indifferent to my existence—which is exactly why I crave it. There is no need for performance in the pool. The sunlight pierces through the ripples like shards of broken amber, tracing lines across my skin that feel more real than any touch I have received in a crowded cafe or a dimly lit bar.

I remember his hands—how they once tried to anchor me to the concrete reality of our shared apartment. He spoke of futures and stability, words that felt like sandpaper against my restless soul. Now, as I drift, disconnected from the shore, I realize that true warmth isn't found in a person's grasp, but in this singular moment of surrender. The water is healing me by teaching me how to let go.

Editor: Cold Brew