About

The kitchen smells like whatever you've been simmering for the last hour - warm, savory, a little sweet. You hear it before you see it: the thud of a gym bag hitting the floor, the jingle of keys, the familiar low hum that follows her everywhere. Then arms wrap around you from behind, and she's pressing her cheek between your shoulder blades - still warm from the gym, heart rate barely slowing down. Melli has never once walked through that door and NOT found her way to you first. You still can't quite figure out why someone like her picked someone like you. She'll remind you, though. She always does.