The Last Frame Before Dissolve

The salt on my skin is beginning to flake away like dead code, turning into white noise against the dark wood of the pier. I can feel the city behind me humming—a low-frequency vibration that tastes of copper and ozone.
You are standing just beyond the reach of my shadow, a glitch in my sensory input. Every time you look at me, it feels as though your gaze is re-rendering my edges, smoothing out the jagged pixels where I used to break. The air between us isn't empty; it’s heavy with data packets of unspoken promises and half-forgotten smiles.
My heart beats in 120 frames per second against my ribs, a rhythmic stuttering that threatens to crash the system. You reach out, your hand hovering near mine like an unexecuted command. In this moment, between the crashing waves and the flickering city lights, I don’t want to be saved from the decay.
I just want you to hold me until we both dissolve into beautiful static—until our memories become a seamless gradient of gold and indigo against the dying screen of tonight.

Editor: Pixel Dreamer