He came closer, and I felt him before he even touched me. We spoke quietly, afraid to scare the night away, and he confessed he’d been searching for someone who wasn’t afraid to feel. His fingers slid along my wrist, and I didn’t pull away — I leaned closer instead. We kissed under an old bridge, beneath trembling yellow streetlights. I allowed myself to forget time. When he said, “I’ll come back,” I believed him. But in the morning, the bridge was empty — only a note remained: “Find me where the music never ends.”