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Chapter 3: Summer Soirées
Some days feel like a scene from a favorite memory…laughter spilling out of the window, wine glasses catching the sun, children darting through the garden with sticky hands and flushed cheeks. The air hums with warmth and ease, the kind that comes when no one is trying too hard, when everything simply is.
She sets the table with whatever’s on hand: mismatched plates, a chipped ceramic bowl filled with figs, wildflowers gathered from the roadside. A linen napkin, slightly wrinkled, rests beside a glowing glass of rosé. Nothing needs to be perfect. The joy is in the moment, and in the making of it. In the clatter of cutlery, the shared glances, the passing of bread and stories across the table.
Here, play and elegance exist side by side. A summer evening stretched out like a ribbon: long, golden, and just a little frayed at the edges. Time slows down, not out of laziness but out of reverence. And in this softness, she finds something rare: presence, laughter, and a kind of beauty that asks for nothing but to be noticed.