Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect hazy glow... feeling like this all day - cozy but ready for anything. A little bit of coffee, a whole lot of love (and maybe a tiny bit of mess!). These kn...

The silk is starting to fray around the edges, isn’t it? Not terribly noticeable, not yet. Just a little more evidence we haven’t quite put ourselves back together since… well, since then. Feels like an age ago sometimes, doesn’t it? The rain was perfect that night, didn’t it? A soft drumming against the windowpanes while he read - probably some dreary Tennyson, always with the Tennyson – and we were both so sure of everything. So close to catching that elusive spark, weren't we?

Now there’s just this quiet. It’s almost comforting, if you don’t think about it too much. Which is rarely the case when he is here, of course. He’s been standing there for ages, hasn’t he? Backing away from the edge of the memory without actually saying anything. That slight turn of his head, the way he shifted his weight onto one foot... familiar, undeniably. Like dust motes dancing in the afternoon light.

And us. Always us, but never truly present. We agreed on that, didn't we? To be perfectly still, most of the time. Easier than facing the questions, easier than admitting maybe those doubts had grown a bit large. This dress – blue, naturally, because everyone said blue suited us best – feels a bit heavy tonight, perhaps. A touchish. But what else would we wear?

See the hint of defiance in the crease of your eyebrow? Doubtful, aren' by the way. Probably. Are you wondering why we hadn't moved all day? Or perhaps, if we ever really did. Well, maybe. Now, smile. Don't look so surprised."

—End Monologue—

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