Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect vintage knit - feeling like it’s all hereing! A little bit cozy, a little bit dreamy...and definitely ready for this autumn breeze. This has been our week,...

(A slight exhale, a shift of weight to one heel – the wool skirted dress feels particularly itchy tonight).

“There.” That’s usually how it was, isn’t it? The little turn of the chin, the way the light catches the fringe of your hair when it fell across your forehead all those years ago. It doesn't seem so far back, not here, not often. Just five minutes after dinner, remember? Husband snoring softly by the fireplace, the scent of woodsmoke and something faintly familiar—your cologne, perhaps—that he never quite managed to shake off. Five minutes until this.

This photograph, anyway. Feels a bit brazen, doesn't it? Not many visitors these days. Certainly not forties. Mostly just the dust motes dancing around the bookshelves, company enough if nothing else. We used to talk more, didn’t we? Before the quiet settled. Before the tea cups started piling up on the desk every morning, silent witnesses to the dwindling conversation.

Your gaze hasn’t really shifted since you stepped through the door. Comfortable, then, wasn't it? A comfortable distance. Like a welling stone, maybe. Easy to ignore, easy to push away. But hadn’ing been easy, had it? More trouble than it was worth sometimes, arguing over whether to admit it. Remember that time, last summer, when we did admit it for three glorious weeks? “Just don’t mention it,” you said.

Now look at us, both holding our breath. Maybe a flicker of recognition in your eyes. Or maybe just curiosity about which side of the bed to step onto tomorrow. It’s alright. Let it hang there. This stillness...it’s not bad, is it? Not yet. Let’s see if you dare to speak."

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