Sunlight & Lingering Heat

The sunlight caught the gold of my bikini, same way it catches the edges of Mom’s sheets on laundry day. It' a familiar kind of warmth—comforting and almost forgotten until you feel it again. He left his book mark in page 147. Said something about wanting to savor this moment.
The scent of clean cotton lingers, subtle perfume against skin warmed by the afternoon sun. Outside, the city hums its ordinary tune but here, in the quiet of our living room—light filtering through the curtains, a single dog ear page marking place – time feels suspended. Like a perfect fold in linen.
He's coming back for coffee and he said to leave the light on. And I will. For him. For this feeling.

Editor: Laundry Line