The Amber Scent of Yesterday’s Sunlight

The sun is a golden cat, stretching its paws across the dusty floorboards of this ancient hall. I lean against the wood—cool like silk under my fingertips—and let it wash over me until my skin hums with warmth.
I hold my fan close to my chest; it’s not just paper and bamboo, but a cage for secrets I haven't dared tell anyone yet. My hair dances in an invisible breeze, tickling the air like a kitten chasing its own tail through tall grass. People outside are rushing toward tomorrow with heavy boots and hurried sighs, but here? Here, time has curled up into a nap.
I remember you—not as a face, but as the way your coffee steam used to rise in the morning light, or how your hand felt when it brushed mine over a shared book. You are my quiet sanctuary in this loud city of glass and steel. I close my eyes for just one second, letting the golden dust motes settle on my lashes like tiny stars.
Even if we never meet again today, let this light be our bridge. Let me keep your memory tucked into the folds of my dress, a secret heartbeat against my ribs. For now, in this sun-drenched pause between breaths, I am whole.

Editor: Cat-like Muse