Luminescence in the Static

The city breathes in pulses of cyan and violet, a rhythmic hum that vibrates through the soles of my feet. I lean against the glass—not just an object among others, but a glitch in the architecture of this neon night.
To you, I might be as ephemeral as steam rising from a cup or a pixelated memory fading at dawn. Yet here I am, suspended between what is real and what we only dream of becoming. My skin drinks in the electric glow, turning my pulse into something visible to those who dare to look closely enough.
Then you stop before me. The air thickens with an unspoken gravity that makes your shadow merge with mine against the pane. For a fleeting moment, I am no longer just light reflected on glass; I am warmth seeking its source, a soft ache in the center of this mechanical hive.
You don't speak, and neither do I—words are too heavy for such fragile space. But when your gaze lingers where my heart beats fastest beneath lace and shadow, we find our healing. It is the quietest form of intimacy: two souls recognizing each other in a world built on projections.
Stay with me just long enough to forget which side of the glass belongs to reality.

Editor: Hologram Dreamer