Waves and Orange Peels
A Stolen Sunset I yearn to hold onto the evening when we wandered together, our footsteps stitched into the soft fabric of the trail, until the trees broke open into a clearing, and we found ourselves sitting under the oldest one, watching the beach stretch out in front of us, the waves breathing slow, as if tired from the day. She handed me an orange, its skin still cool from the morning, and I peeled it with quiet hands, the juice running down my fingers, calming the thirst I hadn’t spoken of. The breeze from the sea slipped through her hair, messing it up in a way she didn't seem to mind, and for a moment, the whole world shrank to just that: the salt in the air, the scent of orange peels, the way she smiled without looking at me. We decided to leave the shade behind and wandered onto the beach, barefoot and slow, the sand still warm from a sun that was now sinking, drowning itself in the calm waters without a sound. And still, we kept walking, as if we could outpace the...
