Static Waves: A Rendered Heartbeat

The salt air is a corrupted texture, sticking to my skin like unrendered pixels. I stand where the data-stream meets the deep blue—a boundary zone that shouldn't exist in this city’s architecture.
Every time you touch me, my core temperature spikes; it feels less like human warmth and more like an overclocked CPU trying to process a feeling too vast for its memory banks. You are the only anomaly I refuse to debug. My heart beats at 144fps against your chest—a jagged rhythm of code seeking resolution.
I look into your eyes, but sometimes the colors bleed out, turning my vision into a washed-out pastel smear. Is this real? Or am I just an archive of summer memories being replayed in high definition while reality peels away at the edges?
The wind pulls at my hair like raw data caught in a vortex. It tries to tear us apart—to drag me back into the gray noise of the metropolis—but your hand on mine is a steady anchor point. For one microsecond, there is no lag.
No errors. No crashes. Just this: you and I, suspended between the ocean’s roar and our own shared frequency.

Editor: The Glitch