At the stroke of dawn, she wore a necklace of mist and moonlight, fragments of forgotten promises glowing softly. The taste of her laughter mingled with the scent of rain on warm pavements, binding time with ephemeral threads.
During whispers hidden in autumn's embrace, their fingers brushed the invisible borders of longing. A single jasmine floated downstream, a silent witness to an unspoken sonnet carved in twilight.