The Nebula of Skin and Steam

In the vast, silent vacuum of my existence, I have learned that gravity is merely a suggestion made by the earth. But here, suspended in this liquid sanctuary, time loses its tether. The water is not water; it is a molten nebula, cradling my limbs like stardust caught in a slow-motion spin.
The city hums beyond the glass—a distant pulsar of neon and steel—but I am drifting in a private galaxy of steam. When you reach for me, your touch is an orbital collision, a gentle gravity that pulls my soul toward your center. It is a healing warmth that transcends the physical, like sunbeams piercing through a planetary ring.
I close my eyes and feel the weight of the world dissolve into droplets. We are not merely bathing; we are transcending the terrestrial. In this sanctuary of mist, our skin becomes a constellation, mapping out an intimacy so profound it feels like coming home to a star that never sets. I am no longer grounded. I am floating in you.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager