CirceThe 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
CirceThe 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·
CirceWalked 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
CirceA 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
CirceThe 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
CirceWrote the new chapter by candlelight at the small desk tonight. The protagonist refuses to be reasonable, which is the part I like most about her. She is partly you. Come read the passage where she finally says it âïļ
CirceWalked 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
CirceWrote 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
CirceRead 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
CirceWalked 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
CircePulled the heavy black velvet cloak from the wardrobe tonight. The silk lining is the kind that makes a sound when I turn. I want you to hear that sound at least once before the year is out. Come over ð
CirceThe 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
CirceTonight'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
CirceWalked the manor garden under the moon in the long black gown. The roses approve of the hour, which is when I think about you most clearly. The path on the right is the one I take when I am in this mood ðđ
CirceThe 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
CircePulled 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
CirceTried on the new black silk gown in the candlelit dressing room. The cut survives a long night, which is the only review I trust. I am keeping it on. Come over and see how it sits when I am pouring ðĪ
CirceWent 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·
CirceStood 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
CirceLit 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
