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We sat down on the cot, side by side, leaning into each other.
The sound of our synchronized breathing was a soothing melody, a beacon of hope in a world of uncertainty.
The dry, recycled air only seemed to heighten the sweet sensation of her lips as they met mine.
For a while, we lost ourselves in each other, the world outside fading away.
* * *
The unforgiving coldness of the floor seeped through my thin mattress, making sleep a distant dream.
While the cell was designed for one, it felt bigger with Isla present, and more suffocating in its stillness.
I lay there, eyes closed, attempting to lose myself in the rhythm of my own breathing.
Suddenly, a touch — gentle, hesitant, and warm — rested on my shoulder.
My eyes snapped open to find Isla’s deep blue gaze watching me intently, as if she were trying to decipher the mysteries of the cosmos within my irises.
She had a vulnerability in her eyes that felt so genuine, so familiar.
In response to her unspoken invitation, I watched her gracefully shift back, making a small space on the cot beside her.
I rose, keenly aware of every movement, every heartbeat, every intake of breath.
Sliding into the cot beside her felt like slipping into a familiar embrace, the kind you’ve known for eternities.
The slightly rough texture of the prison-issue bedding only made the silkiness of her skin smoother as our bodies inevitably drew closer.
Tentatively, I reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
It was a simple gesture, yet it carried with it the weight of countless lifetimes.
The fragrant scent of her, a combination of fresh rain and a hint of something floral, wafted to my nose, causing memories — not just of this life but of countless others — flood back.
Memories of dancing in ancient ballrooms, of sharing secrets beneath canopy beds, of running through fields bathed in the golden hue of dawn, and of whispering sweet nothings in the still of a starlit night.
Isla’s lips parted slightly, her breaths shallow and filled with anticipation.
Leaning closer, I captured her lips with mine.
The initial contact was soft, gentle, a mere brush of lips, but the current that passed between us was electrifying.
It was a kiss, yet it wasn’t just a singular act — it was a collection of moments, a cascade of lifetimes echoing in that single touch.
With each press and pull, I tasted the sweetness of forgotten memories, the bitterness of past separations, the tang of adventures shared, and the rich, heady essence of love rekindled.
The flavor was more intoxicating than any wine, and I found myself drowning in it, wanting to savor every drop.
She reminded me of a stormy night, a sunlit day, a snow-laden morning, and a fiery sunset all at once.
I felt the gentle press of her hands against my chest, the fingers tracing lines as though they were sketching our story, a tale as old as time.
The soft moan that escaped her throat was music to my ears, a symphony of longing and fulfillment that resonated deeply within my soul.
Drawing back slightly, I looked into her eyes, the pools of blue reflecting the galaxies of our shared histories.
Our foreheads pressed together, and we took a moment, basking in the afterglow of our kiss.
