The Saltwater Pulse

Pulse: 72 bpm. Steady. Then, the sight of him. Sudden spike to 110. My breath hitches, a sharp intake of salt-heavy air that burns my lungs in the best way possible.
The ocean is cold against my skin, but his gaze? His gaze is heat. It’s an electric current traveling from the shoreline straight to my chest, causing a rhythmic thrumming I can't ignore. Every time our eyes lock across the waves, my diaphragm tightens; a microscopic spasm of pure, unadulterated recognition.
The city was too loud, too gray, too suffocating. But here, under this pale sky, the only sound is the crashing surf and the frantic, beautiful drumming of my heart against my ribs. He doesn't say a word. He just watches. And in that silence, my blood begins to simmer. It’s not just warmth; it’s an invasion of peace. A gentle, tidal takeover of every guarded nerve ending I possess.

Editor: Heartbeat Monitor