September

She stepped into view in that white dress, and for a moment, the world fell away. It wasn’t just how beautiful she looked — though she did, achingly so —it was the way she moved, like the air itself followed her. Everything about her was soft and sharp at once— grace woven with quiet fire. The way the light settled on her skin, the way her eyes met mine like they already knew the effect she had — it was too much to hold and somehow not enough. She looked like a poem I hadn’t read yet but already loved. Andin that moment, nothing else existed. Just her, in white, in all her quiet brilliance — and me, standing there, trying to hold still while my heart forgot how.