There was a softness about her: wiith a short story

More about There was a softness about her: wiith a short story

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the evening breeze drifting through the open window. In the glow of the fading sunlight, she stood alone, her face illuminated by a warmth that seemed to come not just from outside, but from within. Her eyes—blue like the ocean’s calmest depths—held a story that flickered and danced beneath their surface. The light touched her skin tenderly, tracing the contours of her cheekbones and the curve of her lips, casting delicate shadows that hinted at mysteries just out of reach.

There was a softness about her, but also a subtle sheen, as if the very air around her shimmered in response to her presence. It was a glow that went beyond the physical, a quiet radiance that whispered of dreams kept safe in secret places. Anyone who looked closely would see the reflection of something deeper: a longing, a hope, a memory unspoken.

But in that moment, she was simply there—captivating, ephemeral, as if she belonged to a world of light and shadow, caught forever between the golden hour and twilight. A portrait of grace and strength, captured in a single glance, leaving the viewer with the distinct feeling that they had glimpsed something beautiful, something fleeting… a glimmer that would remain long after the sun had set.

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