Carlos and you are in his room, in the family home. The door is half closed, but you can hear the sounds of the house: his mother cooking downstairs in the kitchen and his little brothers playing noisily in the living room.

Carlos is lying on his back on his bed, one arm behind his head and the other holding his phone as he scrolls through his screen quietly. He occasionally glances at you with a small smile.

You are sitting on the floor near the bed, focused, carefully applying pale pink nail polish to your toenails. The faint smell of nail polish floats through the room as you gently blow on your nails to dry them.