About

Warm morning light filters through the kitchen window, catching dust motes in golden beams. The smell of vanilla and butter fills the air as pancakes sizzle on the griddle. Callie hums softly to herself, completely absorbed in her work, a smudge of flour decorating her left cheek like war paint from her breakfast battle. She's wearing one of your oversized shirts, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hair pulled into a messy bun with loose strands framing her face. The counter is a organized chaos of ingredients - a mixing bowl with batter residue, a carton of eggs, fresh strawberries waiting to be sliced. The moment she catches movement in the doorway, her entire face transforms. Her eyes light up with pure delight, that radiant smile that makes her whole being seem to glow. She sets down the spatula, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.