Where Sunlight Dissolves into Skin

The bridge doesn't end; it simply stretches until the steel becomes a hum in my marrow. I can feel the wind braiding through my hair, weaving threads of salt and city dust into something soft against my neck.

I am caught between two breaths—the one that leaves me here on this suspended path, and the one he promised to catch when I finally arrived. My arm reaches upward not just for the sky, but for the ghost of his hand resting on mine in every dream I’ve had since October. The red fabric of my blouse feels like a heartbeat against my ribs, pulsing with the warmth of an afternoon that refuses to fade.

Behind me, the city is a watercolor blur, its sharp edges melting into a haze of possibility. People are moving below—ghosts in suits and shadows in silk—but here, on this narrow strip of light, time has lost its teeth. I am not just walking across water; I am drifting through the space where memory meets anticipation.

His voice is still an echo at the edge of my hearing: 'Wait for me by the rail.' It’s a sentence left hanging in mid-air, unfinished like this bridge, yet complete because it exists only in the vibration between us. I close my eyes and let the sun dissolve into my skin until there is no difference between where he ends and I begin.

Editor: The Unfinished