Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect cozy sweater - feeling like this most days! A little bit of city noise, a whole lot of peace. This morning was all about slow mornings and strong coffee – ...

(The silk scarf feels cool against the skin, doesn’t it? Always has. A little bit fussy, perhaps, but undeniably comforting - unlike most things lately.)

“Here we are then. Not quite expected, not really surprising, is it? Just another Thursday evening, more or less. The rain outside was doing its usual thing – relentless, quietly insistent – mirroring something inside for weeks now. Or maybe months. It’s hard to be sure anymore when everything blurs together into a sort of comfortable gloom. You were always good at finding comfort here, weren't you? Thatched roof, warm fire…”

(A slight shift of weight, the heel of the boot barely touching the Persian rug. Doesn’t seem dramatic, does it? But every movement feels deliberate tonight.)

"We didn't argue last time, did we? Just...silence. Thick with it, sometimes. Likeed the quietness, mostly. Easier than remembering the shouting, easier than admitting which one of us started each argument. Which one of us held onto the memory too tightly.”

(Your eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly when you took that photograph, didn’, t you? Not disapproving exactly – more curious. As if you wondered why we hadn’t said anything obvious for so long.”)

“That flicker of recognition when the waiter brought the wine. Didn't notice, obviously. Were probably still lost in thought about whether to wear the sable or the cashmere – silly, isn’t it? All perfectly nice, both of them. Maybe too nice."

(Now, don’t stare. Too much staring used to happen. We’re getting brave, aren’t we? Let yourself think about it, anyway. About the way the light caught his hair back then. About how the champagne tasted).

"Just remember, all those years ago, wasn’t it? Before the snowdrift of doubt settled over everything. And smile. For once. Go ahead, give us a smile..."

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