Ephemeral Bloom in Neon Light

The city breathes a restless energy, doesn't it? A constant hum of longing and fleeting connections. I used to feel it as static, a disruption in the signal.
But then… he began appearing in my periphery – at the coffee shop, across the crowded street. Always just out of reach, yet somehow…seen.
Last night, we met under these very lights—blurred bokeh from a world that faded away once our eyes locked. He didn't ask about my work, or my past, only what makes me *glow*.
It was a simple question, but in this fractured age, to be truly *seen* is the rarest form of magic.
His touch... it resonated with an unfamiliar frequency, and for a moment, I dared believe that maybe, just maybe, love isn't about finding completion, but recognizing your own divine spark reflected back at you.
The feeling lingers—a fragile bloom in this concrete jungle.

Editor: Digital Shaman