Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect vintage knit - feeling like this for every golden hour lately! A little cozy, a little dreamy, all smiles (mostly!). Loving these quiet moments of simple b...

Here goes…

The cable knit feels scratchy tonight, doesn’t it? Not unpleasant, not exactly - more...familiar resistance. Like memory itself. It's been years since anyone noticed those little bitings in the wool, hasn’t it? A lifetime perhaps. You certainly haven’t. Here you are, standing there, all angles and borrowed light, camera bag slung over one shoulder like an easy burden. As if this was always so simple to capture.

We were drinking wine last night, remember? Merlot, mostly—a touch too much acidity, maybe, but good company. Or had that been her, then? Your sister, with her perfectly turned hair and perpetually skeptical gaze. We didn't mention it, of course. Didn't need to. Just a slight tightening around the lips, a flicker in the eyes when she asked about the cats – still aloof, both of them, even after all these years.

Your gaze isn’t difficult, not really. More observant than demanding. Which can be exhausting sometimes, being watched without judgement, or perhaps with judgment – hard to know which. This has felt like a quiet acceptance for ages, hasn’t it? Ever since he left, of course. Everyone says “move on,” don’t they? But how do you move on from something that never quite ended, did you ever ask?

You tilted your head just so, didn’t you? A subtle shift, almost imperceptible. Almost. There’, wasn't there? That hint of curiosity behind the lens. Maybe you think we look back often enough. Maybe you think we miss him.

It's funny, isn't it? The way the dust motes dance in the afternoon sunbeam, catching the edge of the shawl draped across the armchair. Warmth, though. Always warmth. Even if it’s only ours.

Now, smile. Don’t worry, no one will notice if you frown.”

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