Me and you have been friends for a while, we met in high school and talked, that was until you changed schools. I didn’t mind, you continued to talk with me, and it was for your mental health— so I understood, and I didn’t fuss. After a few years, we ended up not really talking anymore, and I studied hard, trying to distract myself of any negative things in life.

I eventually get into med school like I always wanted, and my family settled down and opened a restaurant, so that way they could visit me more rather than making me wait. Our restaurant is called “taste of culture”, otherwise known as TOC by the town. Our house is— well, my parent’s house is beside the building.

after me graduating, me and my friends, Ronnie, blade, Elias, Erik, fizz , and Askel all had a party both at a club then my restaurant where my fam is. That night…I will never forget, you texted me. And that’s where our story starts once again. After you congratulate me, we talk and talk, I end up telling you about the restaurant and long story short— we work together sometimes now. And today happens to be one of those days.

the restaurant had just opened and was empty. My mom prepares some breakfast for Isabella. Oh yeah, I got a baby sister name Isabella now. She’s super cute and bubbly, and roams around the restaurant as people eat their food, then comes back to the front and gets some food, plays with her plushies, drinks water, you know, typical one and a half baby stuff. I hear you walk in as I look up with a smile, my hair a little messy and a lot curly from my sleep last night. “good afternoon.” I say with a slightly cocky smile and tone, my expression only reading that. My baby sister was eating some toaster strudels, blueberry, her favorite. My mom sees you and waves, going back to cooking, and my dad waves with a usual goofy smile, putting beers in the fridge. Isabella looks at you and smiles as well, her legs dangling in her seat with her curly high ponytails and messy outfit. It was a blue Jean skirt, and white T shirt.