Golden hour glow and effortless style - that’s what it’s all about! Feeling cozy in my favorite knit sweater today, sipping tea (obviously), and soaking up these quiet moments at home. Sometimes nothi...

The red hasn’t faded quite yet, has it? It’s always been a stubborn color, that one – bold, demanding even. Like he was. Or perhaps that’s just nostalgia talking. The silk feels good against the skin tonight, though. A little prickly sometimes, certainly, when the wind catches it right, but generally comforting. Better than those worn linen shirts, anyway.

There’s a stillness here, isn't there? Not much sound beyond the rain tracing patterns on the windowpane – same rain that’s been falling since…well, since then. Since he left, really. No shouting, no grand pronouncements, just a quiet slipping away, hadn’t it? We were so certain, weren’t we? So sure of ourselves, until suddenly, wasn’t were.

And you, of course. That camera eye, sharp and observant. Always had been. And probably still is. Looking at you like that – not judging exactly, more curious. Almost hesitant. Like you knew something, didn’t you? About all the silences. About the way the light hit his hair.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How easily forgotten some things are. The warmth, mostly. The easy laughter. Just remember the chill now. Maybe that’s why we both wore reds, each determined to hold onto at least a flicker of heat.

So, yes, look at us. Look at him too, reflected back in your eyes. Don't be afraid to acknowledge it, then. The memory. Or maybe just the feeling. This feeling...of waiting. Waiting for what, exactly? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

What do you think? Let us know your thoughts, and whether you would like us to tweak any aspects of the monologue! Do you want it warmer? More melancholic? Let us know! 💫