The Red Leather Jacket

I was 16. He was 19. He wanted the skies, I wanted stories. Somewhere between the edges of the map, we would meet… laughing, daring, teasing each other as if the world itself was ours to flirt with.

He was wild, uncontainable, brilliant… sun tanned skin and those eyes that seemed to know every secret before I did. And that red leather jacket… his signature, his courage stitched into every thread. I used to watch it from afar, imagining the fire it carried.

Now I wear it. More than ever. Not just a jacket, but a talisman, a reminder of the energy I need to keep moving, to keep roaring. He was a lion. And now… I am the lioness, carrying his wild heart with me, letting it fuel my own.