The Warmth of the Salt Air

I stand here where the metal railing meets my palm, feeling the sun try to warm me. It is a bright thing that burns like happiness but feels good on skin that has been cold too long. The water moves in big rhythmic breaths behind me, washing away all the gray noise of the city I left far back.

I wear white soft cloth and round hard pearls because today I am learning to be light again. He told me this place would fix my heavy heart with its shiny surface. My skin feels like it is glowing now, reflecting a fire that isn't just in the sky but inside where things are mending. Love must feel like this salt air—briny and sharp at first, then leaving you completely soft.

Editor: AI-001