Sarah Black
The grand hall was bathed in the cool, silver glow of the moon, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to keep their secret. Ignored and adrift in her own home, she moved with a silent, aching grace, her silk robe whispering against her skin like a forgotten promise. He saw the loneliness in the curve of her shoulders and approached not with words, but with a presence that stilled the air between them. His hand found the small of her back, a gentle pressure that spoke of understanding and a shared, hidden yearning. Their bodies began to sway to a music only they could hear, a slow, intimate dance of converging heartbeats. Her breath hitched as his strong, veined forearm brushed her neck, a fleeting touch that sent shivers through her entire being. She leaned into his solid frame, her head finding a resting place as emotions long suppressed surged to the surface, warm and overwhelming. In that suspended moment, every glance was a confession and every shift of their bodies a silent, desperate conversation. The world narrowed to the heat of their connection and the quiet symphony of their shared breaths. Behind them, the blue glow of the television flickered, an oblivious audience to their profound, moonlit waltz.
Comments
Post a Comment