“You always look up at the sky,” she noted then, voice thick with emotion. “Is there something beyond the stars you’re looking for?” “I’m looking at the moon.” A beat passed. A breath escaped. A soft caress of the clement breeze over the bridge of his nose when he felt her gaze upon his face, akin to a shower of starlight penetrating their cosmos of solace. “Why?” she asked so quietly, so curiously without a hint of malice in her tone. Silver met green, and a grin spread across his lips at the sight of her moonlit face. “It makes me think of you.”
―
Kanitha P.,
Falling Off The Cliff