The Soft Edge of Waiting

The city outside is a blur of cold neon and rushing headlights, but here, in this quiet room, reality softens at its edges. I stand in the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the soft lavender lace resting against my skin like a whispered promise.
My fingertips lightly brush the delicate straps, feeling the faint vibration of my own heartbeat—a steady rhythm anchoring me as the world outside fades into an infinite, undefined haze. He is coming home soon; I can almost feel the warmth of his presence pressing against the thin walls of our apartment. Until then, I exist in this suspended moment, breathing in the quiet, letting the blurred boundary between my solitude and our shared future dissolve into pure, gentle possibility.

Editor: The Unfinished