Golden hour glowin’ here! Just us and our favorite cozy sweater - feels like autumn already, even if it’s just a memory. A little bit of rain outside, perfect mood inside. Feeling soft, feeling good, ...

The wool’s a bit scratchy tonight, isn’t it? Not that we don’t love the way it smells - faintly of woodsmoke and rain, usually. Or was it just after the garden party? It feels like ages since that laugh, doesn’t it? A lifetime, sometimes. Like everything does when the feeling is… hesitant.

Here you are then. Looking good, all sharp angles and quiet curiosity. Not quite the same as before, not exactly. Mored than before, perhaps. A little less wary, maybe. We were certainly bolder with those autumn leaves, weren’t we? Remembered to wear a scarf then, even if it wasn’t particularly cold.

Your eyes—they haven’t lost their spark entirely. Though there’s always been a hint of distance, hasn't there? As if standing too close means admitting something, which, well, isn’t that the point? Isn’t it?

We hadn’t expected you back so soon. Just thought you might be lingering over one of Dad’s roses for another year, didn’t think you’d risk coming out into the light. Funny, really. All these years, huddled here amongst the books and the shadows.

That slight turn of the mouth – a flicker of amusement, perhaps? Or just relief that we haven't completely forgotten how to look at each other. That old familiar gaze, isn’"t?" The one that asked too many questions.

Well, here goes. Let us look at you like that. Now, about those shoes...are those Italian?”

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