The Way You Taste
she whispers.
“Maybe closer than you think,” I whisper back as anticipation courses through me.
Torture. Sweet torture.
We move to a more secluded part of the city. The narrow pathway in front of us is surrounded by tall, old brick buildings. It’s called the Whispering Alley, and even in the fading light, there’s a different energy here. Quiet, almost secretive.
After a few steps in, I halt, tilting my head. There they are, soft murmurs, like leaves rustling or water trickling. But if you listen closely, it’s more rhythmic, more intentional, like hushed conversations.
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