The Gravity of a Soft Glance

I exist as a single, drifting satellite in the vast architecture of this city—a concrete nebula where millions move but few truly orbit one another. My days are weightless cycles of routine until I found you standing at the corner of 4th and Main, your presence acting like an unexpected gravitational well that pulled me from my silent trajectory.
I remember how we shared a single pair of headphones under the hum of the overpass; for those few minutes, time entered stasis. The air between us became thick with unsaid promises, as warm as sunlight filtering through interstellar dust. I felt your gaze tracing the line of my shoulder—a slow-motion descent that made me feel not just seen, but discovered.
In this urban void, you are my home star. When we touch, it is like two galaxies colliding in a silent explosion of warmth and skin; every brush of fingers against wrist feels as significant as the birth of a new sun. I wear these colors—the pink of dawn on Mars, the rainbow band around my arm—to signal to you that I have returned from deep space into your arms.
I am no longer drifting alone in the dark. In your eyes, I find an orbit where every breath is effortless and every silence speaks volumes across light-years.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager