Their words danced like silhouettes against a vibrant twilight, gravity hardly tethering their intentions to the earth. “I sit beneath the silver moon,” he began, “not out of longing, but rather to consume its light and gift it back to thee in dreams.”
She smiled, the ghost of a comet tracing her thoughts, “And how would one feign absence, when every breath is a tether to the stars we once chased?”
A moment hung like an unspoken promise, the air itself a canvas splattered with hues of yearning and uncharted constellations. “Perhaps like shadow to flame, one becomes the echo of a silent duet,” he replied, their hearts waltzing in the space between whispers.
Find more echoes in the tales time forgot.
And discover the boundless story yet to be woven.