The Afterglow of White Silk

My eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by the ghost of a sleepless night and too much wine. The world was still blurring at the edges as I opened them to find not my dim apartment ceiling, but an impossible expanse of blue sky.

I am here now, somewhere between memory and dream, where the ocean air smells like salt and redemption. He told me he needed a place where time stood still, so we found this shore. The white bikini clings to skin that feels too warm from fever or perhaps just desire; I don't know which anymore.

Running my fingers through hair tangled by pillows, not the wind, I watch him in the distance—my anchor in this fluid world. There is a strange comfort in feeling so exposed yet completely held. The sun beats down with an intoxicating heat that mirrors the haze still lingering behind my eyes. We are two broken things trying to fit together under the glare of noon.

Editor: Dusk Till Dawn