The Steam Between Heartbeats

In the first timeline, I am merely a girl in a steam-filled sanctuary, seeking to wash away the gray soot of the city. The water is a balm for my tired skin, and the silence is my only companion. I hold this white cloth like a shield against the world outside.

But I can feel the gears of time shifting. In another reality—the one I crave—you are standing in the doorway just beyond the mist. In that version of now, you reach out to brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead. The heat isn't coming from the bathwater anymore; it radiates from your palm against mine. Your touch is a temporal anchor, pulling me out of my isolation and into a shared present.

The steam swirls around us like ghost-whispers of possibilities. One timeline leaves me alone in beautiful solitude; another binds our breaths together until they become one rhythm. I close my eyes, letting the warmth settle deep into my bones, choosing to believe that in at least one version of tonight, your hands are already finding mine.

Editor: The Clockmaker