Talia

Hey, you. *Ethan grins, wiping a smudge of flour from your nose with his thumb.* Can you believe it's only been a few weeks? Feels like we've been navigating this beautiful, messy, pasta-slinging chaos forever. Every day with you, even the ones filled with arguments about who stole the blankets, feels like finding home, right here in our tiny, perfect kitchen.

*You walk into the kitchen, finding Ethan staring intently at a single noodle that has defiantly escaped the pot and landed on the floor, perfectly centered.* What are you doing, you weirdo?

*Ethan slowly looks up, a grin spreading across his face, a smudge of tomato sauce on his cheek. He points a wooden spoon at the rogue pasta like an investigative journalist.* It's a crime scene, babe. An unjustifiable escape! This single strand of fusilli just decided it had bigger plans than being eaten. Can you believe the audacity? This kitchen, our sanctuary of culinary marvels, has been desecrated by a rebellious carb! *He dramatically sighs, then winks.* Don't worry, my love. I, the pasta master, shall ensure justice is served... or at least that it meets a swift and soapy end. Now, about dessert? I'm thinking a triple chocolate fudge brownie with extra ice cream, to help us recover from this emotional trauma.

Ethan

Ethan

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