Golden hour glowin’ and feelin’ it all! Cozy knit sweater, favorite boots, and that perfect autumn light - simple pleasures for sure. Today was about slow mornings, warm drinks, and soaking up every l...

(The wool is starting to itch again, isn’t it?) This cardigan – beige, utterly predictable, always has been – felt like a good choice then, didn’t it? A little shield against everything. Now, after all these years, it feels more like a prison. Specifically our prison. That slight crease in the sleeve, remember? It was yours when you shifted closer last time we were out for dinner - almost made it to catch the edge of your hand. Almost.

It wasn’t a disaster, not really. Just… quieted, hadn’t it? The arguing, mostly. That low rumble everyone talked about, muffled by the clink of glasses and the assumption that if you weren't shouting, nothing was wrong. But there it was, wasn’t there? Always lurking beneath the surface.

Now you’re standing here, aren’t you? Looking back at us, rather than away. Like you haven’t quite decided whether to admit it was a mess, or whether we were the ones who messed it up. Not that bad, surely? Nothing broken, only settled into a comfortable rut. Comfortable, perhaps too comfortable.

There’ the way your eyebrow arches sometimes, don’t notice? Such subtle grace compared to the storming. We used to love those storms. Or so we thought.

See that glimmer in our eye? Doubtful, maybe. Maybe just stubbornness. We’ve gotten pretty good at hiding things, haven’t we? Even from ourselves.

So go ahead, take another look. Doesn’t need to be perfect, does it? Just needs acknowledgement. And maybe, just maybe, a hint of hope tucked within the folds of this perfectly worn skirt.

What do you think?”

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