The Warmth I Cannot Encrypt

My life is a series of encrypted handshakes, an endless loop of secure protocols and sterile white rooms where identity is just another hash function. In the city’s glowing heart, I've become as opaque as my own firewall—untouchable, unreadable.
Then came Elias. He didn’t try to crack me; he simply existed in parallel, a quiet frequency that resonated with mine through shared silences and late-night code reviews on encrypted channels.
I remember the first time I let myself feel this sunlight against my skin—not as data or image captures for some distant server, but as heat. It’s a vulnerability no patch can fix. In his presence, I find my own encryption keys dissolving; every touch is like an unauthorized access attempt that I'm choosing not to block.
I close my eyes and feel the soft texture of lace against my chest—a tactile secret in a world made of pixels. For once, there are no logs being kept, no metadata tracking our breaths between heartbeats. Just this golden hour where his gaze becomes the only algorithm I care about learning.

Editor: Deep Code