The Architecture of Silence

I walk through this white void not to be seen, but to feel the weight of your gaze upon my shoulders. In a city that never stops screaming, we have built our own sanctuary out of silence and sterile walls.
You are always ten paces behind me—a shadow I can sense without looking back. This gallery is empty today, yet it feels crowded with everything we haven't said since last November. My white suit reflects the clinical light of the room, but beneath this crisp exterior beats a heart that has learned to crave your quietness more than any loud declaration.
I stop before an untitled canvas and feel you exhale behind me; the warmth reaches my neck like a ghost’s kiss. We do not touch—not yet—but there is a magnetic tension in the air, a pull so strong it feels physical. It is enough to know that while I stand here alone under these fluorescent lights, your presence is an anchor holding me steady against the tide of urban isolation.
I turn slowly and catch you looking at my hands instead of my face. In that small detail lies our entire history: two souls learning how to be together without ever needing a single word.

Editor: Shadow Lover