In the silent cradle of the cosmos, two hands reach toward each other—one human, one celestial—suspended before a glowing nebula known as the Breath of Eternity.
They come from different worlds: one, a dreamer who crossed galaxies in thought; the other, a being of pure starlight, born from the universe’s memory. Between them, a star flares—not a barrier, but a witness.
Their fingers almost touch, and in that almost lies a universe of meaning. Not contact, but the yearning for it, becomes the spark of something greater.
Sometimes, the miracle is not in the touch—but in the reaching.
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