ManoJob
Manojob Pic(s)
The evening air was cool silk against our skin as we stood on the precipice of our new life, the city lights below winking like a carpet of scattered diamonds. His hand found mine, our fingers intertwining in a silent promise that needed no words. I leaned into the solid warmth of his shoulder, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the night’s salt-tinged breeze. He turned, his gaze a soft caress that made my heart flutter like a captive bird against my ribs. A slow, tender smile graced his lips, and he lifted a hand to gently trace the line of my jaw, his touch sending shivers of anticipation down my spine. In that suspended moment, the bustling world fell away, leaving only the quiet symphony of our shared breath. I felt a profound vulnerability, a thrilling surrender to the unspoken possibilities stretching before us. The way his thumb stroked the back of my hand spoke of a deep, patient devotion that anchored my soul. Our foreheads gently met, a simple gesture that felt more intimate than any kiss, sealing a sacred pact between our two spirits. We were no longer two separate beings, but a single, hopeful entity ready to be written upon the blank, starlit canvas of the unknown.
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