Golden hour glowin’ and feelin’ it! Cozy knit, favorite boots, and a whole lot of peace here at home. Sometimes the best moments are simple – like curling up with a book and letting the world drift by...

The wool is scratchy tonight, isn’t it? Not terribly so - not yet. It used to be comforting, this merino, all soft curls and quiet warmth. Like him. Now... well. We always loved this scarf, didn’t we? The one with the subtle check – faintly reminiscent of autumn leaves turning, perhaps. A hint of golden light, a touch of melancholy. That wasus. Or at least, before. Before the argument about the rose bush, which never seemed quite so important last time you were here.

(A slight shift of the shoulders, exposing more sleeve).

You haven’t said much, have too? Just standing there, aren’t you? Camera eyes, probably. Always watching, quietly. Like you did then, when the wine flowed freely, and we forgot all about the expectations for a while. This gaze of yours – a little hesitant, maybe? As if you weren’t entirely sure why we’re even here, these days. It’s been five years, hasn't it? Five years since the comfortable silences became a bit tooed, a bit too familiar.

We shouldered it, didn’t we? Everyone thought we had, mostly. Good parents, good jobs… almost perfect. Except, of course, for each other. Almost.

There’, wasn’t there? That flicker in your eye when he mentioned the dog yesterday. Remember Buster? Such a scruffy thing, but everyone adored him. And you, most certainly, found his fur wonderfully warm against your legs.

Now, look back at us. No need to speak. Only question is, does he know how much we miss him? Does he know…? ”

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