Sunlight through the leaves, coffee cup in hand - that’s how it's done, right? A little bit cozy, a whole lot of magic. Feeling like this today – perfectly imperfect and ready to take on the world (or...

(The scent of rain hangs low tonight, doesn’t it? Not enough to be dramatic, not yet.)

Here goes…

“There. That’s the one.” We always liked that armchair, didn’t we? A bit worn, certainly - hasn’t been touched with much enthusiasm since... well, since he left. Doesn't matter. Doesn't usually. These days, it’s mostly quiet, isn't it? The soft rustle of the silk against the skin – cashmere, naturally, always a touch too many layers for some, but never for us, really. Never for us.

And then you arrived. A little hesitant, weren't you? Like you were expecting a slight resistance, maybe even a sigh. Which wouldn't be entirely wrong. It has been rather silent lately. Almost ten years, hadn’t it? Ten years since the last time the light caught his hair quite so nicely.

We're staring, aren’t we? Your eyes, dark and observant. Always observing. Probably thinking about the state of the garden—a disaster, most likely, after that brief spring. Don’t judge. Didn't think to prune back those roses ourselves, did we?

It’s in the gaze, isn’ed? The hint of curiosity mixed with the faintest trace of weariness. Remember the way he used to hold us, gently, almost without noticing? Such simple grace, lost somewhere amongst the dust motes.

Your hand reached out earlier, remember? Just brushed past yours on the table, barely felt it. A tiny hesitation, perhaps, or was it simply acceptance? Or maybe, just maybe, a flicker of hope beneath all the stillness.

So look again. At the picture frame around our hearts, cracked and faded by time. And smile, don't be afraid. Not yet."

Now over to you! Let us know what you thought! Would you like us to refine any part of the monologue, or do you want to give us feedback on the atmosphere?