When Life Spills Starlight, and Our Moments Remain Untouched
What should I do if I accidentally spill water on the sofa？
At half past six in the morning, the first light tentatively breaks through the clouds.
You walk barefoot toward the kitchen to brew coffee, the hem of your white shirt brushing against the armrest of the sofa—
the spot where we fell asleep in each other’s arms last night,
still holding the shape of an embrace and the warmth of half a poem.
Then the cup tilts.
A deep brown river flows across the linen-colored shore,
like the unexpected bends our love has always traveled through.
But this time, we don’t gasp.
We simply exchange a smile, watching the liquid bead up on the fabric,
gently rolling off like dewdrops in the morning light.
