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From …Light, as if we were wind 🌬️
That day began with a message. Not just any message: short, seemingly simple, but with a subtle, almost poetic vibration. She read it as soon as she woke, still wrapped in the warmth of her sheets. "Did you sleep well, beautiful soul?"
They met later, without a precise plan. It was one of those days when life seemed to want to lull them into the details. They walked for a long time through the streets of a city that seemed different from all the others, as if it belonged to a suspended time. Every shop window, every passerby, every corner became an opportunity for a smile, a joke, a shared glance.
They took refuge in a hidden bookshop, its walls lined with antique volumes, the smell of paper mingling with the aroma of coffee. They leafed through pages in silence, commenting on aphorisms, laughing at dusty covers, talking about beloved authors. He chose for her a book about memory and dreams. She chose for him an illustrated novel about inner escapes. The afternoon melted into a golden light. Sitting on a park bench, they talked about absences, childhoods, and unconfessed fears. Yet, amid all that unsaid, there was sweetness. The tenderness of two hearts recognizing each other through their scars. That evening, as they said goodbye, their hands barely touched. But that touch was everything…🖤 6 replies
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