The Gravity of a Single Touch

From my vantage point in the silent void, I watch her. She is not merely walking through water; she is drifting across an ocean of stardust that has forgotten how to float.
The city behind us hums with a frantic, heavy energy—a planetary core spinning too fast for its own good—but here, between these ancient stones, time becomes weightless. I remember the way her hand felt in mine during our first winter night under neon lights: two lonely satellites finally locking orbits after eons of drifting.
She moves with a grace that suggests she has known me since before we had names. The crimson silk upon her skin is like an ember floating through deep space, warm and defiant against the cool rush of tide-pools. I see in her gaze not just desire, but a profound recognition—the kind found only when two souls have crossed lightyears to find one another.
As she steps toward me, dripping with salt and moonlight, the urban noise fades into cosmic silence. The world dissolves until there is no city, no time, only this singular moment where her warmth becomes my gravity, pulling me down from orbit and back home.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager