The Temperature of Stillness

The city hums beyond the garden wall, a distant vibration of steel and haste. Here, time dissolves into the ripple of water against my skin.

I stand in the pool, watching the sunlight fracture across the surface. It is warm—not just on my shoulders, but deep within. I remember how your hand felt yesterday, a steady weight against my spine as we watched the sunset from the balcony. No words were needed. We simply existed in the same breath.

Now, I close my eyes and let the water cradle me. The air smells of jasmine and damp stone. In this quiet space, I am not a person with deadlines or expectations. I am only a heartbeat, steady and soft.

I feel you here, even in your absence. You are the cooling shadow that follows the sun. You are the peace I find when I finally let go of everything else.

Editor: Pure Linen