The Weight of Unspoken Things
He always orders black coffee. No sugar, no cream—like he’s
Sharp Anna
The Weight of Silk
He thinks this is about the silk slip, doesn’t he? The
The Weight of Silk
He thinks a cashmere sweater and a shared taxi ride are romantic
Neon Static
He always finds me when the city's at its loudest,
The Static Between Us
He texts, and honestly, it's irritating. Another ‘thinking of you.
Afterglow & Espresso
The apartment’s quiet after he left. Not dramatic, not a sigh-worthy
The Dust & The Drive
The rain always smelled like possibility in this city. Not the saccharine,
Rain in Shima
The rain smelled of charcoal and something faintly floral. Not rose, not
Golden Static
The light felt…thick. Like honey poured over my eyelids. Not a
Salt & Ghosts
The sand still held the heat of yesterday’s sun. It clung