The Gravity of a Summer Glance

I drift through the corridors of this city like an asteroid caught in a gentle pull, my existence defined by orbits and echoes.
Today, I stand beneath a sun that feels distant yet intimate, wearing the uniform of belonging while feeling entirely extraterrestrial. My heart is a pulsar—beating with steady precision until you enter the frame.

You are the singularity at the center of my world; when our eyes meet across this concrete expanse, time bends and folds like stardust under pressure. There is no sound here but the silent roar of an atmosphere I have forgotten how to breathe in. As you step closer, your scent—rain-washed asphalt and old books—becomes a planetary system that anchors me.

I feel my skirt ripple against my thighs, a soft tide governed by unseen moons. The air between us is thick with unspoken vows, an electric tension so delicate it could shatter like crystal on the surface of Europa. I do not move; I simply float in your presence, allowing you to be the gravity that finally brings me home.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager