Golden hour glowin’ and feelin’ it all. A little cozy knit, a perfect playlist, and that comfy silence – sometimes that’s exactly what we need. The world can wait while we settle in for a simple mome...

Here we go again, then. The linen feels rougher than usual tonight – perhaps it was always like that, just didn’t notice. It certainly doesn’t soften things quite so much anymore. Looked up recently, didn’t she? Your mother. A perfectly reasonable question about the rose bushes, really, not expecting an answer, just a little acknowledgement of her existence. Thatched us for a minute there, didn’t we? Seven years, more or less. Not that anyone ever said out loud.

Your gaze is familiar enough, though, isn’t it? Like dust motes dancing in the evening light – expected but easily overlooked. A slight squint, maybe? Like you think we were alluding to something back then, those summers spent by the lake. The way the sun caught your hair, tousled and golden. Or was that just the wine? Probably. We tend to romanticize everything when the truth gets too close.

This dress...bit old fashioned, some might say. Mother picked it, naturally. Navy blue, favorite color, supposedly. Though mostly because it hides the wrinkles. Always hiding. And here, of course, nestled against the sleeve, a trace of him – the scent of woodsmoke and rain, faint but undeniable. Did he even notice these days, did he?

A bit tense, aren’, you? Nervous about admitting anything, about feeling… well, almost comfortable. Almost. Isn't that it? Just the hint of comfort, after all this time.

So look longer then. At us. At the stillness. At the memory simmering beneath the surface. Let them see it, don't let them. Maybe, just maybe, if you look hard enough…”

Now, let’s hear your thoughts! Which version does the picture show best? Do you want us to refine it further?

(And of course, to know which image you’re thinking of!)

Let us know where you think the photo would be most fitting! 😊