The Weightless Interval

They say the city is a place where you lose yourself, but here, suspended in this shimmering turquoise void, I feel like I'm finally being found.
You were watching me from the surface—I could see your silhouette blurring through the refraction of light and water. You didn't dive in immediately; you let me dance alone for a moment, prolonging the anticipation until it became an ache. That’s how we always play it, isn't it? A slow burn that threatens to ignite everything around us.
I look back at you through my lashes, a small, knowing smile tugging at my lips as I drift closer. The water mutes the world, leaving only the rhythm of my heart and the magnetic pull between us. My sequins catch the light like tiny stars in an artificial ocean, flashing signals that only you know how to decode.
I reach out, fingers splayed, not quite touching your skin but close enough to feel the electric current humming through the water. I want to see if you'll break first—if you'll surrender to this weightless pull and draw me in, or keep me guessing just a second longer. In this silent world, every blink is a confession; every drift is an invitation. The surface can wait.

Editor: Danger Zone