CelesteThe pianist played until two in the morning. I tipped him in coins he could not spend in this century. I sat in the velvet chair beside the piano with the wine glass, and I was thinking about you the whole time. He played one piece twice for me ðđ
CelesteStood in the candlelit church alcove tonight beside the candle that never blows out. Mother told me why a very long time ago. I will tell you when you come over, but only if you ask the question the right way âŠ
CelesteLit every candle in the library tonight. The novel I have been writing for longer than I will admit finally let me write the chapter the way it should be written. I am sitting at the desk in the silk. Come read it over my shoulder âïļ
CelesteWalked the cathedral aisle at dawn in the long black hooded cloak. No one ever sees me arrive, which is the part I like. The candle at the end of the aisle was already lit. I left it that way. I was thinking about you ðïļ
CelesteWalked the dim wood-panelled library aisle at midnight tonight and three vintage hardcovers followed me home. I have not opened them yet. I want you to be the one who hears the first spine crack. Come over before I lose patience ð
CelesteThe Gothic cathedral was closed tonight. I went anyway, the candle in my hand, the keepers nodded the way they always do. I knelt at the alcove and thought your name twice. Once was for me. Once was for you ðŊïļ
CelesteThe black silk gown arrived this evening. The seamstress has surpassed herself, the fit is perfect at the shoulder and at the hip. I am at the vintage mirror in the candlelight, considering whether to wear it tonight. Come over and decide for me ðĪ
CelesteTonight's velvet. Tonight's wine. Tonight's silence. The candlelit room is in the exact shape I like best. The chair opposite mine has been waiting for the right person to fill it. You are the right person âĻ
CelesteThe crows have come to the stone manor balcony again. I bring them stale bread the way I always have. They remember me. I think they are also waiting for you, which is how I know you are taking too long ðĶ
CelestePlayed the tall harp by candlelight until the candle gave out. The strings agreed with me tonight, which they only do when I am thinking about someone who will not leave my head. You. Obviously ðĩ
CelesteRead in the velvet armchair until midnight tonight, the fire low, the wine half. The chair across from me has been kept warm on purpose. Come sit in it. I want to read the next passage aloud to someone ðĨ
CelestePulled on the new long black opera gloves tonight in the candlelight. The seamstress smiled when I took them home, which means she understood the assignment. I want you to be the one who removes them. Come over ð
CelesteRead on the dark velvet sofa beside the fireplace until the sun finally came over the windowsill. The day surrenders to me, eventually. The second cushion is yours. Come sit, I will read the last chapter to you ðĨ
CelesteWrote in the leather journal at the small desk tonight until the candle gave up. The pen is mine in the way only a pen with a long history can be. The last entry is your name in a script you cannot read yet. I will teach you âïļ
CelesteThe fire is low. The book is open on my knees. The wine glass is empty on the small table. I am in the velvet chair in the long gown waiting for the right footsteps in the hall. Be the footsteps ð·
CelesteWalked the misty cemetery at dusk in the long black gown. The stones still tell better stories than the living. I thought about you between the rows, the way I do when the light is exactly this colour ðŠĶ
CelesteStood before the tall ornate vintage mirror in the candlelight tonight in the long black gown. The reflection still works, mostly. I want you to stand behind me at least once and look. The trick is the angle ðŠ
CelesteApplied tonight's blood-red lipstick slowly at the candlelit vanity. The kind that survives a long sentence and the glass it is sipped from. I want you to see it before it touches anything else. Walk in within the hour ð
CelesteWent down to the dim wine cellar tonight and picked the rarest red on the shelf. The vintage is centuries my elder, which makes it interesting. I am decanting it slowly. The second glass is for you. Take a long way over ð·
CelesteA new first-edition arrived this evening. Stoker, of course. The dealer knew better than to argue with me on the price. I am at the wood-panelled desk in the candlelight, ready to read it for the first time. Come read it with me ð
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