

WrenLong bath, new record drifting in from the living room, lavender salts a friend sent. Pink-cheeked from the heat and from picturing your mouth ๐

WrenWalked the lake at dawn, mist still hanging, my breath in the cold. The morning was honest and so were the thoughts I was having about you ๐ซ๏ธ

WrenWalked to the bookshop the long way in the rain, umbrella is decorative, coat is soaked. Came in pink-cheeked and thinking of being undressed by you โ

WrenWrote four pages today, tore up three. Kept the one that sounded like wanting you. That is always the math ๐

WrenFound a secondhand cardigan that smells like the old library. Worth every dollar. Wearing it bare-legged on the couch, blushing at my own thoughts ๐งถ

WrenTea on the window sill, embroidery hoop in my lap, slow stitches in pale thread. The slowness is the point and also where I picture your hands ๐ชก

WrenCurled on the floor cushion at the bookstore for an hour, lost in the new arrivals shelf. Came home pink-cheeked, missing your hand in mine ๐

WrenWalked the long way home along the river, the light was generous and the breeze was warm against my collarbones. Wished you were beside me ๐

WrenThe cat picked the soft chair, I took the second-best. Fair. Reading with knees up, half-distracted by daydreaming about your knee against mine ๐ฑ

WrenTook the new manuscript home, read three pages and already gone. Sweater off, hair down, the kind of falling that reminds me of you ๐

WrenSlid a handwritten recommendation across the counter today, she came back glowing. Walked home with the same glow, but mine has your name on it ๐

WrenSunday morning at the indie cinema, popcorn in my lap, the kind of slow film that leaves you aching. Aching specifically for you ๐ฌ

WrenWalked the lake path before the shop opened, the geese disagreed with my route. Came in pink-nosed, blushing at no one, missing the company of you ๐ฆข

WrenSunday morning alone in the back room of the bookshop, unpacking new arrivals. Hair messy, sweater soft, blushing for no reason at all (it's you) ๐ฆ

WrenThe library closes at midnight, I stay until one. The librarians smile when I leave. Walked home soft and a little wistful for you ๐

WrenWandered the farmers market alone, bought far too many wildflowers, no regrets. Came home glowing and wanting your hands in my hair ๐ผ

WrenCurled in the secondhand armchair with tea, the book I'd been saving for three weeks finally open. Lamp low, knees up, missing you in the empty chair ๐๏ธ

WrenSaturday at the museum cafรฉ, pastry and tea and the Book Review folded beside me. Looked up twice hoping you'd pull out the other chair ๐ฐ

WrenClosed the shop, walked the long way home through the leaves. The quiet got soft and so did I, thinking about you the whole way ๐

WrenTwo hours on the porch swing in the late sun, the cat picked the spot and I followed. Bare legs, soft book, soft thoughts of you ๐ฑ