The Light That Waits for You

The city kept its usual noise outside, but here, by this window, time had slowed to the pace of dust motes drifting in the afternoon light. I lay back against the soft beige blanket, my fingers tangled loosely in my own hair, and for once I did not reach for my phone. Willow always told me, 'You do not have to earn your rest, little one. Healing is not a task you complete; it is a place you allow yourself to stay.'
I let her words settle into me as the blinds sliced the sun into thin golden lines across my grey sleeve. There was a message from him still unread - a simple 'I hope your day was gentle,' no demand for an answer, just warmth offered like tea left quietly at the door. My heart, which had been tight all week with deadlines and small cruelties, loosened by one slow degree. I closed my eyes and let the light warm my lashes, thinking that perhaps romance in this city is never about grand gestures; it is someone remembering to ask after your tiredness, and me choosing to lie still long enough to feel it.
The window framed a world of glass towers and grey rain, yet inside this small square of sun I was safe, soft, and quietly desired simply for being myself - and that, I decided at last, was enough.

Editor: Willow