Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect cozy knit – feeling like we’ve found our little haven today. A quiet kind of magic, don't you think? Just us, the coffee, and these dreamy views… maybe a b...

The wool feels scratchy tonight, doesn’t it? Not unpleasant – not entirely - but definitely there. Like a memory trying to break through, stubborn and familiar. It’s been ages since we felt quite so close, hasn’t it? Or perhaps that was just after the wine last time… Which brings us back to this room, really. A little too much dust motes dancing in the late afternoon light, which always did suit him. See, he liked the way the light caught his hair then, didn’t he? Darkish brown, almost black sometimes when the light wasn’t right.

And now you are, aren’t you? The Photographer. Always observing, never quite sure if you're meant to be intrusive or not. A slight tilt of the head, a perfectly captured frown – nothing dramatic needed, just enough to hint at the quiet frustration simmering beneath the surface. We weren’t supposed to let it get to this point, were we? Nothing ever does, usually. Just one small misstep after another, quietly shrugged off until now. Now there'... well, more than likely, the scent of resentment lingering faintly in the air, don’t think you noticed.

Your eyes are a bit wide today, aren't they? Probably used to see everything but ourselves. Feel them though, the tremor in your lip when the wind catches the edge of this scarf - a simple grey cashmere, a touch indulgent for such a dreary evening. Remember when everything felt simpler? Before the paperwork, before the expectations, before we started expecting too much.

We stood by the window then, didn’t we? Rain against the glass, and a certain conviction that things would be alright. This feeling, maybe, had been stronger then. So, look closer. Aren’t you intrigued? Maybe just a little. After all, haven’t you always been.”

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