Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect cozy knit – feeling like we found our little slice of heaven today. A simple kind of magic, don’t you think? Just us, the city streets, and maybe a hint of...

The wool feels scratchy tonight, doesn't it? Not that scratchy – not yet. It used to be so soft, when he bought it for us - all muted greys and subtle cashmere - felt like a quiet promise every time. Now… well. The buttons haven’t been quite right since she arrived. That silver one always catches the light, hasn’t it? Likeed to notice that.

It was after dinner, wasn’t it? A little too much wine spilled on his cuff, didn’t dare say anything. Just smiled, bit our lip, a trace of amusement there anyway. He thought we were happy, those fools. Didn't think about the way the shadows lengthened during the evenings, did he? Too busy with the cricket scores, perhaps. Or maybe just brave enough to look away sometimes.

You're staring, aren’t you? That familiar furrowed brow, ever-so-slightly skeptical. As if you know exactly which year it was—or wasn't—that everything went wrong. And maybe you do. Maybe you remember the scent of rain on the terrace, the way the firelight caught his hair...

We weren't perfect, of course. We never were. A touch aloof, certainly. A little too many secrets kept within these sleeves - the silk scarf, of course, favourite green, though rarely worn anymore. Such a shame.

Here comes the stillness again. Nice and silent, usually. Except for the tick of the grandfather clock downstairs, ticking towards another night spent wrapped up in ourselves. So, don’,t blink then. Don’t break the spell. Just keep watching. See if you can catch us holding onto something, won’t you?”

Now let's see what you think! Would you like us to refine it further, or does it capture the mood? Let us know! 💫