"The sun kissed the horizon, painting whispers of crimson favorites," she murmured. His gaze upward transformed trivial clouds into canvases of dreams.
"Odette," he breathed, "in this universe, it is only you who tunes the voluminous rhythm echoing beneath these celestial strings."
"Silence," the violinist murmured, yet no notes dared intrude. The escalating symphony of time forged an intimate transgression between them and the cosmos. It spun with dials of its own, invisible to human touch but felt deep in the heart's undertow.
He had let his devotion fly, charting moonlit arcs unheard of amidst mere stars. Standing at that skyward dial, he believed it was adjusted solely for Odette, a beacon for her radiant path...
With every twist, the dial infused new color into the space around them. Would the whispers etched on starlight guides their hearts to reignited passions or lay bare desires?