Sunlight through the leaves, coffee cupines… that’s what it’s all about, right? Feeling cozy and content in my favorite oversized sweater today - sometimes the simplest moments are the bestest. A litt...

The wool is scratchy tonight, isn’t it? Not unpleasant, not really – more…familiar resistance. Like remembering something was supposed to be easy, but wasn’t quite. These boots were good for a while there, these ones. Dark brown, sturdy, seen their share of rain and most certainly, too many silent evenings spent staring out the window. Just like tonight.

And you, of course. Always you. It hasn't been a face you haven't recognized for years, has it? That flicker behind the eyes when the wind catches your hair, which means almost always. A hint of disbelief, perhaps. Or maybe just mild amusement at our stubbornness. We’ve both had plenty of time to cultivate that.

There was shouting last night, didn't there? Nothing dramatic, nothing that truly broke anything, just...words. Flicking away at the embers until only grey remained. And us, standing on the edge then, a little hesitant to admit the cold was starting to bite. Remember? Your hand brushed hers – her mother’s, naturally – as you reached for yours. Didn’t even notice, did you? Probably not.

We used to be so obvious about it. Now it feels like we need a sign. Maybe this quiet. This comfortable, brittle quiet. A smile would do, wouldn't it? One small one. Almost managed that with the glass earlier, hadn't we? Theine recently mentioned needing new glasses, remember? So much detail.

So look at us. Looking back. Perhaps you should. It’, rather warm here, doesn't it? Except for the wool. Go ahead, look closer. Does that mean anything?"

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