Golden hour glowin’ and feelin’ it! Sometimes the best moments are the quiet ones – curled up with a good book (and maybe a perfect cup of tea). This week has been a whirlwind but tonight it's just us...

“The light was always good through those pines,” I murmur, my voice softer than usual tonight, lessens so since... well, ever since. It hasn't been too many nights recently, has it? Not like then. A glass wasn't broken then, not really, were there? Just a few shards scattered about for years, hadn’t there?

Feel that wooly comfort, does one? This cardigan has seen better ones, certainly, after all these years—and still feels familiar. Warmth against the chill, both inside and out, though sometimes lately, it’s felt more like resistance. Itches nicely, doesn't it? Thatched up feeling, maybe.

You’ve got that curious look again. The one where the edges aren’t quite sure. Like you didn't entirely understand the way the rain used to smell during the summer storms – earthy, a touch melancholy. A hint of dampness in everything, even the memory.

And our eyes met, didn’ed they? For a blink, no doubt. Before you shifted slightly, back to observing. We often do. Almost forget to notice each other, don’t we? Such a quietness between us, usually. Less chaotic than the last time, which is nice.

That half-finished cup of Earl Grey – brewed strong, as you liked it. Bit lukewarm now, probably. Doesn’t matter. Comforting nonetheless.

Now, look at us. Staring. A question hangs in the air, almost tangible - did he say something interesting about his new job? Or are we simply wondering why we haven’t asked about the dog yet?”

What do you think? Do you prefer the warmth, or the potential for discomfort? Let us know! And don’t hesitate to give feedback on any particular aspect - the prose, the imagery, the chances we took!

Would you like us to try another round with a different mood?