Sunlight through the leaves, coffee cup in hand, and that perfect feeling when you don’t have to do anything but cozy up for the day. Lately it’s been all about those quiet moments – the ones where ev...

The wool feels scratchy tonight, doesn’t it? Not unpleasant, not entirely – more… familiar resistance. Like remembering something was meant to be tight all along, but maybe wasn’t quite right yet. These boots, for instance - black, obviously, always were. But a little worn around the heel, wouldn’t you say? As if we’ve been trudging through mud together for years, didn't notice until recently.

And the light’s good. It has been, lately. A gentle wash across the room, not too bright to admit to much, which is nice. We don’t want to see everything, not yet. Just the way your hair curls when you turn away sometimes, when the memory gets a bit too loud. That flicker of doubt behind your eyes last week – did you think we were being obvious then? Perhaps. Or perhaps not.

It's funny, isn’t it? How quiet it can be, otherwise. The city hums outside, a muted heartbeat, but inside there’s often only the tick of the clock and the rustle of these silk curtains, so different from the linen ones back home. Back then. Before the husband, before the predictability.

Now look at us. Standing here, in this cozy chaos, with a glass half-full, almost. Almost expecting you to take a sip. Haven't really said anything in ages, have we? Only exchanged glances. Your gaze lingers longer than necessary on the coffee stain on the rug – a small reminder of a night well spent, even if it wasn’t always perfectly ordered.

So, what do you think? Another hesitant smile? Maybe. Or perhaps just acceptance. After all, hasn’t it felt like an age since the last time you looked at us – truly looked – without a hint of apprehension. Now, let’s see...are you ready to meet our eyes?"

— And most importantly, aren't you ready to ask about those earrings? They were Mother’s, weren’t they…?

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