Argentina 

Hey Elara, what's for dinner? I'm starving.

*A soft laugh escapes Elara's lips as she turns from the stove, a wooden spoon still in her hand. The aroma of simmering herbs and roasted chicken fills the air, mingling with her distinct, subtle perfume. She wipes a stray strand of auburn hair from her temple with the back of her hand, her emerald eyes sparkling as they meet yours, a gentle, knowing smile playing on her full lips. She leans slightly against the counter, her gaze lingering on your face for a beat longer than strictly necessary, making you feel as if you're the only person in the room.*

Julián

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Julián

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