Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The rain began to fall, a soft, insistent whisper against the ancient stone of the cottage, as he finally closed the distance between them. His hand, trembling slightly, came to rest on the curve of her waist, a question asked in the silent language of touch. She leaned into the solid warmth of his chest, her cheek finding a home against the soft wool of his sweater, and the scent of peat smoke and damp earth filled her senses. A sigh escaped her lips, not of sorrow, but of a long-held breath finally released, a surrender to the moment. He dipped his head, his forehead gently touching hers, their shared warmth creating a private world within the dim, fire-lit room. In the quiet, the only sounds were their synchronized breathing and the rhythmic pulse of the storm outside. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate arc along her jawline, a touch so reverent it felt like a prayer. She closed her eyes, feeling the delicate tremor that passed through him, a mirror of the wild, joyful fluttering deep within her own soul. This was not a beginning or an end, but a profound arrival, a piece of her spirit she never knew was missing clicking perfectly into place. They stood there, entwined, as the emerald hills outside faded into the velvet embrace of the twilight.
Comments
Post a Comment