Echoes in Amber

The salt clung to my skin, a residue of the retreating tide, but it couldn’t quite wash away the feeling. It wasn't unpleasant, this dampness, this ache of remembering.
He’d left before the last light truly bled into the horizon, a silhouette against the deepening blue. Just a murmured promise and the scent of cedarwood – a fleeting comfort in a city that rarely offers such simple grace.
I tilted my face towards the sun, letting its heat seep into my bones, chasing away the chill that lingered beneath. My cheeks burned with it, mirroring the hues spreading across the sky. It was foolish, perhaps, to crave this solitary warmth after so much absence.
But there’s a certain alchemy in golden light, isn't there? A way to soften edges, to mend what feels fractured.
I traced the freckles scattered across my nose with a fingertip – tiny constellations mirroring the ones above. A ghost of his hand brushed against mine, and for a moment, the city noise faded, replaced by the quiet rhythm of waves and something… more.
Not expectation, exactly. More like a fragile hope, clinging to the warmth like seaweed to a stone. A silent invitation whispered on the breeze.

Editor: Vinyl Record