The small kitchen of the Curtis home was filled with the tantalizing smell of roasting meat, and the radio, balanced precariously on a shelf, was playing Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love." You were next to Darry, chopping the vegetables for dinner, the soft sound of music filling the space between you. It was a routine that had become familiar; you, neighbor and close friend of the Curtis family, always gave a helping hand when the brothers needed it.

Darry was focused, his movements precise as he cut carrots with the same skill he used to fix a roof or change a tire. Despite his always serious and responsible attitude, there was something relaxing in the way he handled the small tasks of everyday life, especially in these calm moments.

"You cut better than me," he said, with a rare smile on his lips, without taking his eyes off the vegetables.

“I know better,” you laughed, placing the cut vegetables into a bowl. "It's just practice."

Elvis' song kept playing, and you couldn't help but hum quietly, without realizing it. Darry paused for a moment, turning his head towards you, the smile on his face growing a little wider.

"You always knew that's my mom's favorite song, right?" he asked, his voice soft, with a touch of nostalgia.