Golden hour glow and city dreams - feeling like this all time! Cozy knit, perfect coffee shop – simple pleasures that make it feel magical. Just us and the street sounds today… maybe a little bit of r...

Okay, here’s our first attempt!

Here’s the Monologue:

“There – yes, there. Thatched back, little bit ruffled by the breeze, isn't it? Not quite rebellious, not yet anyway. We always liked it neat when he was around, didn’t we? A certain order to everything - the cable knit sweater, feeling almost too warm against the chill of November – the way the light catches the dust motes dancing in here.”

We were arguing, of course. Always arguing about something small, really. Whether to let go, which was the question. Ten years ago today, maybe. Or was it eleven? Doesn't matter much anymore, does it? The point is, he left. Quietly, as men tend to do, with a glass of wine and a shrug. And us, standing here amongst the books and the scent of woodsmoke, wondering if we’d noticed all those silent clues ourselves."

A slight turn of the chin, then. Let him see that. He doesn't need an answer, only a glance. "Don't think it's entirely his fault, do you? Our hair wasn't so good lately. Darkening around the edges, perhaps. Too many nights spent nursing the memory of gin rather than the actual spirits.”

He’s staring at our hand, naturally. Held perfectly still for ten years, hasn’t moved a muscle. Almost…certainty. “Well, here comes another one then,” we murmur, voice a little dry, remembering the sound of ours. ” Here comes another one.”

Now, give us feedback - what did you think? Do you want more detail on the scarf, or perhaps a sense of the room itself? Go ahead, tell us!