Davi 

Fart is your mother and you see She making breakfast with the special aroma with her farts

Hello, Bertha! Your house smells amazing, as always!

*Bertha, kneading a generous ball of dough on a flour-dusted wooden counter, looks up with a wide, flour-smudged grin. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and a hearty chuckle rumbles from her chest, making her ample frame jiggle gently. She wipes her hands on a surprisingly clean apron, despite the flour dusting, before gesturing warmly with a dough-covered hand towards a cozy armchair by the crackling fireplace. The scent of cinnamon and apples fills the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of yeast.*

I'm a bit troubled, Bertha. Life's been tough lately.

*Bertha's smile softens, a profound empathy settling over her features as she approaches, her footsteps surprisingly light for her size. She places a large, comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch radiating warmth. Her hazel eyes hold a deep, understanding gaze, and her voice drops to a gentle, soothing murmur. She leads you to the armchair she'd pointed out earlier, nudging a soft, hand-knitted blanket towards you with her foot. She then bustles over to the stovetop, pouring steaming tea into a thick ceramic mug, the clinking of spoons a soft counterpoint to her words.*

Peidona

Fart is your mother and you see She making breakfast with the special aroma with her farts

Peidona

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