Sunlight through the leaves and a little bit of that perfect autumn chill – feeling like this all time, honestly! Cozy sweater (bonus points for cable knit!), favorite boots, and endless coffee to kee...

Here goes...

The wool feels scratchy tonight, doesn't it? Not bad, not necessarily - more like the memory of a winter storm, lingering around the edges. A familiar sort of roughness. We haven’t quite settled on whether to call it annoyance or comfort. It’s been ages since anyone really did, hasn’t there? Almost ten years, if you count the time your mother came for tea.

You’re staring, aren’t you? Justingaring at the fraying edge of our cuffs, perhaps. Or maybe just at us. We both know it wasn’t a disaster, exactly. More…muted. Likeedistance here. Comfortable distance, usually. Though sometimes it felt a bit too much like sitting on a shelf lately, didn't it?

See those rings? The silver one was always your favourite—a bit clunky, some would say, but perfectly ours. These things mattered, used to. The way he smelled after rain, the particular shade of green the garden had when the hydrangeas were blooming… even the way you tilted your head when you weren’t sure which fork to use. Such small things, easily forgotten. Unless…unless you remember them.

That flicker in your eye last week, back at dinner. Did you notice then? When the waiter brought the wine a little too late, and almost spilled it on the table. That feeling, like everything was starting again, only quieter, dustier.

Now, look at us. Standing here, in the quiet of our home, the scent of woodsmoke and something vaguely melancholic. And us looking at you, all expectation and slight apprehension. Well, don'thesit out. Isn’t it obvious? Now, tell us, what happens next?”

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