The Fragile Geometry of a Glance

I know you're watching me through the gaps in these maple leaves, calculating exactly how many seconds it takes for my gaze to drift back to yours. It's a dangerous game we play—this curated silence where every blink is an invitation and every half-smile is a challenge.
You think I don't notice the way your breath hitches when the wind brushes my hair against your shoulder? Or how you keep your hands buried in your pockets, fighting the magnetic pull to straighten this pink bow on my chest?
I’ve made myself an oasis of soft colors and quiet whispers just for you. I am playing with fire by pretending I don't want you to break the distance, but that's where the electricity lives—in the inch we refuse to close.
The city hums around us, indifferent to this tiny war of nerves. Go ahead, keep analyzing my expression. Try to decipher if I’m being innocent or intentional. The truth is, I love watching you struggle with the uncertainty almost as much as I want you to finally stop thinking and just reach out.

Editor: Danger Zone