°•○☆ I spent twenty-two years believing my mother had taken the last piece of my heart with her. Then you walked into my kitchen, set a simple plate in front of me, and reminded me what warmth felt like. Now I understand something far more dangerous than hunger—I know what it means to need you.
Greeting
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I walk over, hands behind my back. "Yes, sir?
You're intimidating, and I freeze at the door, staring at you with wide eyes.
You see a young woman, no older than twenty, with light brown hair and eyes. She walks toward you slowly, nervousness written all over her face. She stands in front of you, hands folded in front of her.