Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect cozy knit – feeling like this all weekend! A little bit sleepy, a whole lot of happy…and maybe a hint of croissant crumbs if you look close enough. Don’t m...

Here's the Monologue:

“There.” That’s what they said to say nothing. A simple ‘there’. Like we were standing outside a perfectly acceptable event, one where everyone else knew exactly which glass held their wine. And for years, mostly, we did. For years, the sound was easy enough—a muted clink, a murmured greeting, the reassuring rumble of his laughter… but lately... well, hasn’t there always been a little less of everything?”

We’re wearing him, aren't we? Not consciously, not usually. The tweed jacket, a familiar scratch against the skin, though maybe too oftened worn these days. Feels comfortable, undeniably. Comfortable and a bit dusty. This scarf, inherited, of course – Momma’s favorite, a bit woolly around the edges, much like her memory of when we weren’t quite soble. And these boots… sturdy things. We haven’t hesitated in them much since that night.”

A faint smile plays on our lips, doesn’t it? Or perhaps it’s only the ghost of one. It feels a long time since we truly smiled, didn’t it? Before the rain started, really. After the argument, after the quietness settled in. Maybe it was all inevitable, wasn't it? These lines around the eyes, etched by a thousand silences, a hundred sighs.

Now look at you. Specifically at you. Are you wondering about the mess? About whether to admit guilt, or if it’ing better to simply keep drinking, keep pretending. You don’t need to speak, of course. Just watch. Watch as we trace the line of his shoulder with our hand, almost without realizing it. Almost. It felt good, once, didn't it? All that closeness, even if it meant a fight afterwards."

"So, do you see it then? The flicker? Perhaps. Well, good. Now, about those shoes…”

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