Karups
Karups Pic(s)
The fading sun cast long, trembling shadows across the room, gilding the dust motes that danced in the warm, still air. He stood by the window, his silence a language I was only just learning to understand. My heart was a wild, fluttering thing against my ribs as I watched the line of his shoulders, the quiet strength held in repose. I took a single step forward, the old floorboard whispering beneath my bare foot, a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world. His head turned slowly, and his gaze met mine, a look so intense it felt like a physical touch, warming my skin from across the room. In that endless moment, I felt not seen, but known, as if he were reading the secret history written on my soul. A soft, shuddering breath escaped my lips, the only sound I seemed capable of making. He lifted his hand, a silent invitation held in the space between his open palm and the fading light. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with a longing so profound it was almost a taste, sweet and sharp on my tongue. I moved into his space, the heat from his body a gentle promise against my skin, and when his fingers finally, softly, brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek, my eyes closed in a wave of pure, unspoken surrender. It was not a capture, but a release, a final, quiet sigh as the last of the light bled from the sky.
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