ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The summer air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, clinging to our skin as we sat in the dimly lit silence of the porch. His gaze was a tangible weight, a soft heat that made my breath catch in my throat. I watched the slow, deliberate path of his thumb as it traced the line of my knuckles, a whisper of a touch that sent shivers cascading down my spine. The world narrowed to this single point of contact, a forbidden current humming between our linked hands. My heart hammered a frantic, desperate rhythm against my ribs, a wild drumbeat echoing the unspoken words hanging in the air. He leaned in, his forehead gently resting against mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with my own. In that suspended moment, every unacknowledged glance and every accidentally shared smile from years past coalesced into this profound, terrifying understanding. A single, stray tear escaped, tracing a path down my cheek that he softly brushed away with his fingertips. The air itself seemed to pulse with the ache of this long-suppressed longing, a beautiful and heartbreaking collision of souls. We were crossing a line we could never uncross, and in that quiet chaos, I felt utterly, irrevocably found.
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