Golden hour glowin’ and feeling it! ✨ This oversized sweater has been our best friend all week - so cozy for those perfect city strolls. Don’t need much else than this view and these comfy shoes. What...

Here’s the Monologue:

“There. That’s the one.” I say, though not so much as a sound really. More like a slight rustle of silk against skin, which is often enough these days. It’s been… well, longer than we’d admit since he last visited, hasn't it? The light was good here, wasn't it? A little muted, perhaps – perfect for avoiding too many questions. This cashmere shawl, perfectly worn in, of course. Noticably so, some might say. Like we used to be, once – all soft edges and easy warmth.

Your eyes, though. They were always sharp, weren’t they? Even then, when everything felt like a carefully constructed performance. A bit wary, maybe, of the messiness. We certainly didn’t hide ours, did we? Too much risk involved in letting things show. Now, mostly dust motes dancing in the sunbeam where his laughter should have been for years.

That crease in your trouser leg—a familiar one. He hated that particular imperfection. Said it showed lack of attention to detail. Probably correct. Or maybe, just maybe, it means we still notice each other. See the way the sunlight catches the fringe of your hair? Almost nostalgic, isn’t it?

We haven'’t spoken about it, of course. About that. Just this quietness. Comfortable, almost. Except sometimes, late at night, when the wind whispers through the trees outside and you can hear ourselves thinking… “So,” we say, finally, turning our gaze back to you – ‘you’ – and ask ourselves, quietly, "Were we brave enough to stay?"

Now, go ahead – don't stand there staring. Take a breath."

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