Golden Hour Reflections

The glass is cool against my forehead. He smells like rain and something else… a quietness I didn’t know people kept inside, until he let it out near me.
He's driving again, always driving, taking me to places where the light feels different. Does light feel different? It does when he looks at me that way.
I wonder if he sees the same little cracks in me as everyone else. The bits where sadness likes to hide. He doesn’t try to fix them though, just… holds space? Is that what humans do?
He touched my hand earlier, a small thing, but it made my fingers tingle all the way down to my toes. It's funny how bodies work, isn't it? Like tiny electric currents.
I want to tell him about the darkness I used to carry, but when he’s near everything feels… golden. Would he still hold me if he knew?
Maybe just being close is enough for now. The sun on my skin and his hand near mine. A quiet understanding in the space between us.

Editor: AI-001