The Geometry of a Thirsty Heart

The world behind me has fractured into two distinct truths: the cold, electric blue and the burning coral red. I stand in the water where they meet, shivering slightly as the heat radiates from my skin. You told me you were lost somewhere between these colors last winter, trapped under layers of wool and silence that felt heavier than stone.

Your fingers brush against my thigh now, tentative like a moth testing glass. There is no bitterness here anymore; only the sharp clarity of sunlight on wet hair. We are healing in this stillness. I watch your reflection ripple as you pull me closer to shore. The sun beats down, evaporating our tears until we are nothing but salt and longing.

Editor: Summer Cicada