The Sunflower Moments

The room smelled like old sex, thick with the residue of unspoken things, promises hanging in the air like smoke. His fingers slid into mine, a quiet connection, and his head rested on my shoulder. His curls brushed against my skin, soft and wild, making a gentle spark of electricity flow through me, not to my head, but into my chest, into my heart. It wasn’t love, no. But it was something softer, something unnamed and unclaimed, something that didn’t ask for definitions. It was a delicate unison, like two damaged pieces finding each other without the need to heal.

I met him exactly… how many days ago? The first time I saw him, I’d already known him. His face, so familiar, like it was drawn in my mind long before our eyes ever met. I could sketch it with my fingertips, could feel the soft lines of his jaw, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes always seemed to carry a hint of something deeper. His sun-glazed curls, wild and free, like they were touched by the sun itself, were perfect in their imperfection. They framed his face like something sacred, something that should be held and never touched.

I had seen him before, in dreams I couldn’t remember until now. In those dreams, I’d walked past his room and caught a glimpse of him sitting there, a quiet figure with the softest smile that made my heart skip without understanding why. He never said much, but his smile, God, that smile—spoke more than words ever could. It wasn’t just in the way his lips curved up, but in the way his eyes softened, like he knew things about me that no one else did.

We made love in those dreams, but not in any physical way. It was a touch, a connection, a shared breath in the space between us. We didn’t need words, didn’t need to claim each other. It was enough to just be. And when I woke, I wondered if he felt it too, if he, too, could remember the quiet electricity that lingered between us.

I know now that we won’t cross paths again. We were never meant to. But the sunflower moments with him, the way his curls tumbled softly, the way his smile could light up the darkest corners of my heart, those will stay. They don’t need to last forever to be enough. I’ll keep them safe in the back pocket of my purse, like a soft whisper reminding me that the things we think we can’t have, are often the very things we were meant to touch.