Golden hour glow and favorite oversized sweater - doesn’t get much better than this! Feeling cozy and content as we watch the leaves fall outside our window (and maybe a little bit nostalgic for autum...

Here we go...

"The cable knit feels warm tonight, doesn't it? Not too warm, not yet. Just…comfortable. It always was about the comfort with James, wasn’t it? A little too much comfort sometimes, perhaps - a comfortable settling into the familiar which can be so easy to forget happens when there isn’t quite enough effort.”

We haven't spoken in weeks, really. Weeks since he asked if everything was alright, after all, if ever, for the child. A perfectly reasonable question, usually. Now though, the sound of his footsteps outside the kitchen door felt a bit much last time, didn’t it? We were bothhersen, weren't we? Both of us quietly drinking ourselves a little less happy each night.

See those sleeves rolled up? Bit daft, some might say. Always did like the way the wool shows around the cuffs, though. Likeed the feeling of warmth, even then. "There you are," he used to say, a touch of fondness in that rumble of a voice. “Right here."

Now, mostly, there’ just us, and the ghost of the scent of woodsmoke. And a quietness that hasn't been entirely drowned out by years of dutiful smiles. You’re staring, aren't you? A little hesitant, maybe? As if expecting a flicker of recognition, but afraid of what we might find if we allow it. It has been a while.

This gaze of yours, a little wary, definitely. Like you think you know the story – the one where the light faded gradually, the children grew beautiful without knowing them well enough – but perhaps you've forgotten how to fully trust the picture. Don't worry, it’s okay if you have. The memory itself is often blurry these days.

Just keep gazing. Let yourself notice the slight crinkle around the eyes during everydsing, the hint of defiance in the set of the jaw. Maybe, just maybe, today will be different. Or maybe not. Either way, the wine is good, and the darkness is deep..."

What do you think? Do you want more?

Image Notes: For context, imagine a photo of a woman, likely in her late thirties/early fortiesies, sitting comfortably on a rug near a fireplace, dressed casually but stylishly in a chunky cable-knit sweater and dark jeans. Her hair is loosely curled, and she's smiling faintly—a touch melancholic, certainly, but also accepting. She’s holding a glass of red wine.

Let us know what you thought of the monologue! Would you like us to write another round focusing on a particular aspect of her life, or perhaps tweak this one?