The Temperature of a Glance

The water is cold, but my blood is beginning to simmer.

I see you standing there—a silhouette against the cascading light of the falls. My pulse skips. *Thump.* A rhythmic rebellion in my chest that ignores the tranquil surroundings. It's a physiological glitch, a sudden spike in cortisol and dopamine that leaves me breathless even as I smile for the camera.

I hold this pineapple like a secret; it’s sweet, sharp, and ripe—much like the tension between us. Every time your gaze lingers on my skin, I feel the microscopic prickle of goosebumps. It’s not just the humidity or the mist. It’s you.

My heart rate monitor would be screaming right now—a frantic, jagged line tracing the path of my desire. You are the urban heatwave in a world of cool water. I want to reach out, let my fingers brush against yours, and feel that spark jump from skin to soul. One look, and the city noise fades into a dull hum. All that remains is the sound of my blood rushing toward my face, heated by the terrifying, beautiful realization: I’m falling. And I don't want to be saved.

Editor: Heartbeat Monitor