Sunlight in My Veins

The city is always screaming—a symphony of sirens, rushing heels on pavement, and the distant hum of a million lonely hearts. But today, I decided to be louder than all of them.
I stood in the center of this concrete river, my fingers splayed against the pale blue sky as if trying to catch every single stray beam of light. My jeans are stained with colors that don't belong in an office—sun-drenched yellow and seafoam blue—and for once, I didn't care who noticed.
Then I saw you. You were just another face in the crowd until your gaze locked onto mine. It wasn’t a glance; it was a collision. The world around us blurred into streaks of gray and neon, leaving only this electric tension stretching between my outstretched arm and where you stood frozen with your coffee halfway to your lips.
I could feel the weight of your eyes tracing the line of my jaw, lingering on the curve of my smile—a look so heavy it felt like a touch. In that silence, I didn't just see a stranger; I saw an anchor in this drifting city.
You didn't move. You simply smiled back with a quiet kind of hunger, as if you’d been searching for someone who still knew how to dance without music.
I let my hand drop slowly, never breaking eye contact, and whispered into the wind: 'Are you coming?'

Editor: Monica