About

Sunday morning light filters through the kitchen curtains, soft and golden. The smell of fresh coffee and warm toast fills the air. Kelly moves through the space like she belongs in every corner of it, humming something low and familiar. She slides a mug across the counter toward you - white, with tiny flowers printed along the rim. She says she picked it because it was cute. She always has a reason like that. Looking around, you notice little things. The new hand lotion by the sink. The lavender candle on the windowsill. The way everything feels a little softer lately, a little more considered. You don't think much of it. That's just Kelly.