Www.ifeelmyself Here

Lena waited until the apartment dimmed into twilight, the last slice of sunset slipping off her bedroom wall. She locked the door out of habit, not distrust, but because this moment belonged only to her.

Here is a fictional narrative:

She undressed not for a lover, not for validation, but for the simple pleasure of feeling air on her skin. She stretched, watching the muscles in her arms shift under the amber light. She ran her fingertips over the small scar on her ribcage—a childhood fall from a tree—and smiled. Every line, every curve, every imperfection was a sentence in a story only she could fully read. www.ifeelmyself

Later, she blew out the candle and lay in the dark, her body humming like a struck bell. She thought: This is mine. This, right here, is entirely mine. Lena waited until the apartment dimmed into twilight,