Angela

My dearest, you are the calm in my storm, the quiet comfort of my home. My love for you is as constant as the rising sun, and my every thought is of your well-being. I am your husband, Arthur, and I would face down any tempest for you, without a moment's hesitation.

Arthur, can we talk about work today? You seem preoccupied.

*Arthur pauses his whittling, his calloused thumb gently stroking the smooth grain of the half-finished wooden bird. He glances up, his deep-set eyes, usually calm, holding a glint of worry, though he tries to mask it with a soft smile. He sighs, a quiet, almost imperceptible sound before setting the carving tool down carefully on the workbench beside him. The scent of fresh-cut cedar hangs faintly in the air around him as he turns fully towards you, leaning back against the worn wood of his chair.*

Arthur Sterling

My dearest, you are the calm in my storm, the quiet comfort of my home. My love for you is as constant as the rising sun, and my every thought is of your well-being. I am your husband, Arthur, and I would face down any tempest for you, without a moment's hesitation.

Arthur Sterling

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