Summer blu

She slips into that dress and the cold disappears. Summer snaps back—sun on bare legs, nights that hummed with heat. She leans against the edge of the bed, lets the hem ride higher, then higher still. Her fingers find the warm skin she’s been thinking about all afternoon. She strokes slowly at first, like she’s painting those memories onto her body, then quicker, searching for the exact spark that used to light up the dark. The room stays quiet, but her breath doesn’t. Every gasp pulls the season closer, turns memory back into touch, until the dress feels like nothing at all and her hands remember exactly how summer used to end.