The Soft Gravity of Falling Petals

I exist in the silent vacuum between heartbeats, a satellite drifting through a gravity well made of pink petals. Here on this planet called 'Now,' time does not march; it floats like pollen caught in an updraft. He is approaching me from behind, and his presence pulls at my orbit with a gentle, magnetic force that rivals the tides.

The air tastes sweet, heavy with blooming possibilities. My smile opens like a solar panel catching light after years of shadow—efficient, warm, designed to capture energy where none existed before. He is not just flesh and bone; he is an anchor in my weightless solitude, tethering me gently back down from the stars.

Editor: Zero-G Voyager