The Weight of Sun-Washed Linens

I run my fingers through the humidity, feeling it cling like a second skin. The city skyline is just a gray smudge in the distance, but here on this shore, everything feels washed clean by salt and light. There's a strange comfort in how the sun hits bare shoulders—like being tucked into fresh sheets that have been drying all day outside. I think of you folding me gently back to myself after so many weeks of feeling frayed at the edges.

Editor: Laundry Line