At the Edge of Light
They stood pressed together, like two shadows meeting at the edge of light. Half of the scene was a warm yellow sun, the other half a blazing red fire, and between them two faceless bodies, as if they had lost their features in order to preserve their pain.
One rested his head on the other’s shoulder, not seeking words, but fleeing the weight of silence. The yellow behind them was a faint promise of safety, while the red was a clear confession of unspoken anguish. The embrace was not salvation, but a brief truce with the world.
In that moment, they were neither man nor woman, neither names nor stories; they were a single meaning: that when the burning grows intense, a human survives only in the shadow of another human.