Night of the Sahara
The celebration at camp pulsed with energy, but Autumn’s thoughts kept drifting back to the ridge — the warmth of his arm, the stars falling like whispered promises.
Lanterns flickered against the dunes, the night thick with drums, laughter, and the scent of spice. She joined the dancers barefoot, her crimson scarf catching the firelight. The rhythm carried her, blurring music and memory until she felt the same electricity that had passed between them.
Stars in the Sahara
When she paused to catch her breath, she saw him at the edge of the circle — no sketchbook, no camera, just watching her with that same quiet intensity. He held out his hand. In his palm lay a small pendant carved from copper, etched with a spiral.
“For your next adventure,” he said softly.
She smiled, fastening it around her neck. “You might be part of that adventure.”
Later, lying on the sand beside the dying fire, she looked up at the constellations — countless points of light stitched into the same sky they had shared the night before. She reached out to touch Karim’s, then she leaned over to kiss him softly on the lips. He grabbed her waist and pulled near to him. Her red hair made her special, then he lost himself in her deep blue eyes.
“Under the desert sky,” she wrote, “I didn’t perform — I remembered.”
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