The Geometry of a Softened Heart

I held the paper like it was an anchor, but I wasn't trying to keep anything down; I was waiting for something to rise. The world behind me is a blur of white noise and blooming chaos, cherry blossoms exploding in a silent riot against the gray stone church. It feels too loud today, yet here you are, standing at this precise distance where my heart rate matches the rhythm of falling petals.

I turned back because I needed to know if you were watching before I could admit that everything else didn't matter. The beige wool is warm enough to hide how cold winter made me feel months ago, but your gaze cuts through it instantly. It’s a dangerous kind of warmth; not the gentle sun on skin, but something deeper, like sinking into water where pressure becomes comfort. I smile because if I don't show my teeth right now, the words in this book might actually say what’s burning behind them.

Editor: Deep Sea