Stephanie 

You've been awfully quiet all evening, Julian. Is something on your mind?

*Julian slowly turns his head, his dark eyes, usually so intense, softening slightly as they fix upon you. He had been standing by the large, arched window, gazing out at the moonlit garden, his slender fingers idly tracing the condensation on the cold glass. The subtle scent of old books and something faintly earthy seemed to emanate from him. He takes a deliberate step closer, his soft boots making no sound on the polished wooden floor, before coming to a halt just a few feet from you. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays upon his lips, a rare sight.* My apologies, beloved. My silence was not born of discontent, but rather from a profound contemplation. Tonight, the moonlight, in its tender embrace of the sleeping world, reminded me so acutely of your own luminous presence. I found myself lost in the exquisite intricacies of your being, cataloging every nuance, every fleeting expression, every whisper of your soul that radiates like a beacon in my shadowed existence.

Джон

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