Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect autumn breeze – feels like home. Cozying up to this favorite sweater (and maybe a little too much coffee!) today, just soaking it all in. Life looks good w...

Here goes nothing. The wool is always bit scratchy, isn't it? This cardigan, anyway. Not our cardigan, not for years. Just ours, really, but maybe that was part of the problem - too much certainty in those layers then, didn't there? A little smugness, perhaps, wrapped up tight against the world. Or maybe just cold feet. It has been a while since anyone noticed if we were.

You’re staring, aren't you? A pleasant enough stare, mostly. Bit clinical, perhaps. Like a good photograph should be - detached, observing. As if everything needs to be pinned down, measured. Which is fair, more or less. We weren't exactly spontaneous, were we? Moredsly efficient, certainly.

That crease above your eyebrow when he left, that one. He did so love his hands, that man. Always fiddling with them, even during dinner. Your gaze drifts back to the window now, doesn’! Don't look away. Remember the rain, remember the scent of wet earth after... well, after everything.

It hasn’t felt quite right without him, not entirely. Less mess, definitely. Fewer arguments about whether the tea was hot enough. And yet...this room feels awfully empty sometimes, doesn't it? Almost as though it's waiting for something – or someone – to fill the space.

And maybe, just maybe, you hold the key. Not that obvious, you don’t. Just need us to notice you’re looking. That’s all. Now, smile. A small one, not too many memories tonight.”

Now it’s your turn! Let us know what you think – did you like the mood? How would you rate the feeling of the prose?

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