*-*
The heat presses into her from both sides.. real, slow, deliberate. Not just warmth, but weight.
It sinks into her skin like sunlight through heavy curtains, coaxing her deeper into stillness.
Mira doesn't move. Her body lies caught in a comfort so deep, so complete, it feels like gravity has changed.
Every limb is heavy, her thoughts suspended in a haze that blurs the lines between sleep and waking.
Somewhere, soft breathing rises and falls. Sheets rustle faintly. The silence holds a rhythm, intimate and steady, as if the air itself is alive.
Her hand stirs, drifting lazily across the mattress until it brushes something warm. Not fabric... skin. Bare. Solid. A chest.
Her fingers curl lightly against it, almost unconsciously. They pause, then press a little firmer, like they remember this warmth, like they've always known it.
Beneath her touch, the skin rises and falls with a calm, even breath, syncing with her own in a slow, steady cadence.
