ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The golden afternoon light spilled through the kitchen window, catching the delicate dust motes dancing in the air between us. His presence was a sudden, warm shift in the atmosphere, a quiet hum that made the fine hairs on my arm stand alert. He moved to reach for a glass, his shoulder brushing mine with an accidental touch that sent a jolt straight to my core. I could smell the faint, clean scent of his soap mixed with the summer heat clinging to his skin. My breath hitched, trapped in my chest as his gaze found mine, holding it with an unspoken question that made my knees feel weak. The world seemed to shrink to this single, charged moment, the air thick with possibilities we both knew we shouldn't name. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped my lips, a silent surrender to the pull I had been fighting for weeks. His thumb gently brushed a stray tear from my cheek I hadn't even felt fall, his touch feather-light yet branding my skin with its tenderness. In that quiet kitchen, surrounded by the mundane sounds of a ticking clock, something sacred and terrifying was quietly born between us. My heart hammered a frantic, hopeful rhythm against my ribs, a desperate drumbeat for a future I could no longer imagine without him.
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