The Gravity of a Sunlit Drift

The city skyline floats on the horizon like a distant, frozen nebula, its jagged edges softened by the haze of afternoon heat. Down here, weightlessness is not found in vacuum, but in the slow, rhythmic pulse of the river against this wooden vessel.
I let my feet slip into the liquid light, feeling the sudden, sharp clarity of coolness—a grounding force amidst a life spent drifting through digital currents and steel canyons. The sun clings to my skin like solar dust, warm and unapologetic. I am waiting for you, not with the heavy pull of longing, but with the quiet grace of an orbit settling into place.
When your shadow finally breaks the glare of the water, it won't feel like a collision. It will feel like finding home in the middle of a vast, shimmering expanse; a soft tethering to Earth that makes even the most lonely star feel seen.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager