Miss

It's like an evening where nothing happens, but everything feels too intense. When the air smells like memories, and every little thing reminds you of someone who isn't here - and it makes your chest feel tight, but beautiful. A dance on the edge of sadness and lightness: the dress twirls, cheeks burn, everyone applauds, and inside, the floor quietly collapses. Music comes in waves - at first it's like light, almost carefree, and then it breaks through a crack where you can hear your heart whispering, "Just a little longer, and I can breathe again." And even though the kitchen is now full of echoes and my voice sounds distant, I still want to keep spinning. Because there's something real about it: a loss you can't escape, and a tenderness that remains anyway.