Sunlight through the gauziest silkies – that’s how you know it’s been a good day. A little sleepy today, maybe just content to stay curled up here for awhile… coffee in hand, world outside! Feeling th...

The wool is scratchy tonight, isn’t it? Not terribly so, not usually – cashmere, remember? Though sometimes it feels like more than that, doesn’t it? More like the memory of the thorns - prickly, undeniably beautiful. It’s been… well, longer than we liked to admit it had. Ten years, maybe. Or was it eleven? Doesn’t matter much, does it? We weren't counting. Not really.

Here you are then, aren’t we? A little hesitant, perhaps. The light catches the dust motes around the armchair perfectly, almost makes them look golden, but you were mostly focused on the frame, didn’t realize we’d invited ourselves back into the quiet. Happens all the time.

We hadn’t expected this, exactly. Certainly not the invitation. Just assumed things would remain…distant. Like ships passing in the night, everyone always said. But there we are, nestled amongst these books – our books – a hint too close for comfort. A touch of the old spark, don't think we noticed it until now.

That slight furrow in your brow – was it annoyance when we asked about the cat? Yes, yes, it was. Winston wasn't keen on visitors, either. Still hasn', though he probably misses us. Heh.

Now, look at us. Aren't we a mess? Slightly rumpled, definitely tired. And still, faintly smelling of woodsmoke and rain.

Are you sure you wanted to come? No need to answer immediately. Just look at us, sitting here, with this familiar scent of home. Now, smile, darling. That wasn't such a bad idea, was it?"

Let us know: How do you think it went? Any particular element you loved, or want tweaked? Do you agree with the feeling captured - a bit melancholic, perhaps?