ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The sun bled orange into the sea, its final warmth a caress upon our salt-kissed skin as we walked the deserted shore. His hand found mine, our fingers intertwining like the roots of the ancient driftwood scattered along the tide line. Every gentle squeeze sent a silent, shimmering current straight to my heart, making it flutter against my ribs like a captive bird. The rhythmic crash of the waves was a drumbeat syncopated with our slowing, meandering steps, pulling us deeper into the twilight’s embrace. I leaned my head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent of sunshine and sea spray, a fragrance that felt like coming home. He turned to face me, his eyes holding the last light of the day, reflecting a depth of feeling that stole my breath away. His thumb traced the line of my jaw with a reverence that made my knees feel weak and my soul feel strong. In that suspended moment, the entire world narrowed to the space between our slowly closing lips. When they finally met, it was a soft, yielding collision, a tender exploration that tasted of promise and salted air. A single, perfect tear of joy escaped my lashes, tracing a warm path down my cheek as the tide, as if on cue, rushed to gently swirl around our bare feet.
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