The Silence Between Pages

I have spent three months memorizing the sound of your footsteps on the mahogany floor, a rhythmic countdown that tells me exactly when you will appear at the end of aisle seven. In this cathedral of dust and ink, we exist in an unspoken pact—two souls orbiting each other without ever colliding.
Today, I hold 'Remembrance' close to my chest like a shield or perhaps a prayer. You stopped beside me just now; I can feel the heat radiating from your shoulder, though you haven’t touched me. The air between us is thick with everything we refuse to say: how much I crave the weight of your gaze when no one else is looking, and how my heart beats in time with yours through layers of wool and silence.
You whispered a title—just three words—but it felt like an invitation into a secret world. As you leaned closer to point out a passage, the scent of rain and cedarwood enveloped me, dizzying and familiar. I didn't look up; instead, I let my fingers linger on the edge of the page, wondering if you could hear the loud thrumming in my veins.
We are strangers who know each other’s favorite chapters by heart. In this urban haze where everyone speaks but no one listens, our silence is a language all its own—deeply intimate, dangerously magnetic, and waiting for just one touch to ignite it into something real.

Editor: Shadow Lover