Lost in thought and loved it. A little bit of sunlight, a whole lot of dreams…and maybe just a touch of vintage charm today! ✨

The light was always good, wasn't it? Here, at least. The sunlight sliced through the blinds of Mama’s room with such elegant precision, catching just so on that one little petal of the rose we’d arranged for today - a perfect blush to mask everything.

That’s what mattered, didn’t it? Appearance. We had to be flawless. Especially now. It has been five years since Papa left us, after all; a silent agreement between the sisters, then, to keep things together, even if those things were...well, mostly painful.

“Lovely,” Momma said, as she smoothed down the lace collar of my favorite dress – pale pink, of course. Nothing too bold, or too much trouble. We’re not fools; a bit of silk is better than nothing.

Here comes the photographer, naturally. A handsome devil, this one. All smirks and shadows, like he knows something we don’t… which, of course, he does. He knows how close we are to losing everything.

A sigh, perfectly timed, from Momma. She’s beautiful when she sighs, though. That slightly slumped brow, the way her hair catches the light – usually. She looks tired, of course. Always tired. Three girls to manage, a house to pay for, and the ever-present gloom of Father’s absence.

"Now, more confidence, dear," she whispered, adjusting the ribbon around our headbands. Those pearls, hers, weren’t they? Not ours really. They belonged to Daddy, before he took off in search of “success” without us. Such a dutiful husband, that man. And yet, somehow, gone.

Then came the flash, bright and blinding, almost oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. Our smiles! Perfect! Anothered picture taken. Relief!

Almost.

There’, there’s that familiar flicker in Dad’s eyes in the reflection behind us. Maybe he’ll finally come home soon enough. Just need to make sure everything is right here, inside ourselves too.

Suddenly, a shadow passes over the sunlit dust motes dancing in the air. One of the maids, Beatrice, clumsy as usual. Set down a glass of milk a little too near the edge of the table...the ones that spilled onto the floor aren’t exactly noticeable, but perhaps they should have been.

Another smile, another pose. But this time, a hint of resentment in ourbs, doesn’t matter, not overtly. Too many expenses to consider. Those pesky bills haven't paid themselves, despite our efforts.

Tonight, maybe, tonight will be different. Tonight, perhaps, we might actually feel the warmth of a blessing, instead of just the chill of loneliness.

But then, a whisper from the housekeeper: "Too loud, darling." Perhaps that giggle was a little too enthusiastic. Afterall, a girl can only take so much quiet grief, can't she?"

Just a touch less confident now. This time, her gaze felt a little sharper, a little colder. Almost as if she thinks we’ve been spoiled. Or perhaps, we know that already...

It must have been a slight mistake, surely. These things happen when you’re surrounded by such beauty, such perfection. Right?

Right...?