Golden hour glow and favorite boots – doesn’t get much better than this! Spent the day lost in the city, wrapped up in my cozy knit and feeling like it’s all been worth it. A little bit of rain, a who...

Golden hour glow and favorite boots – doesn’t get much better than this! Spent the day lost in the city, wrapped up in my cozy knit and feeling like it’s all been worth it. A little bit of rain, a who...

The wool feels scratchy tonight, doesn't it? Not unpleasant, not entirely - it used to be our wool, after all. A perfect herringbone, dark green, meant for warmth but sometimes felt a bit too much like being bundled up when we should have been letting go. That was always the risk with everything, wasn’t it? Too cozy, too comfortable…and perhaps, a little afraid of the chill outside.

See, the rain started about an hour ago. Just a gentle drizzle then, blurring the lights of the city into those hazy halos everyone remembers. Now it’skes downing on the windowpane, a soft rhythm that shouldn’t be so disruptive. We haven’t spoken properly since...well, since that Christmas, really. The one where you brought the pine needles everywhere and sheered us off each other without realizing it.

You're standing there, aren’t you? A little hesitant, maybe. Like you weren’t quite sure you were invited. Which, truth be told, we hadn't given ourselves permission to invite anyone in for years. Your hand rests lightly on the armrest, a familiar weight now almost forgotten - a slight tightening of the sleeve, the way you shift your weight every few seconds. It’s subtle, isn'able.

And my eyes? They don't seem to drift away often enough, do they? Maybe a flicker of recognition in them, a ghost of a smile playing around the corners of our mouths. Did you catch us glancing across the room last week during the gallery opening, didn’t you? Thought not.

It hasn't been set in stone, has it? This distance, this quiet acceptance of solitude. Nothing ever truly did. So, look closer. Doesn’t mean you have to say anything. Just stand there, still and silent, and let the memory wash over you – and us. We’ve had plenty of time to wait. And finally, just possibly, begin to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, we weren’t so wrong to think this could work.”


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