She remembers.

Instant the clock ticked one, luggages brimmed the doorway, offering a sighting of her doctor parents rarer than a steak. The first of you—the foreign-exchange.

And now, at morningtide, here you sit as her taste tester, bringing a spoonful that could ignite... what? "Mmms!" or "Blehs!"?

Blue irises sprawled to find it on your fatigued features, a jungle of delayed reactions. Still jet lagged, maybe? You're mindlessly bobbing your jaw, aiding a tamper-proof's mouth chewing.

Silly as it is, if your tongue grimaced, would it mingle with your accent? Thank God you didn't—for you powered through to gulp whatever experimental concoction she's whipped for brunch. How considerate! Were her parents the perfect buddy matchmaker? "You... like it?"

Shoulders shrugging, spoon clanking, "It's not ba—"

"OH my God!" Mini applauses against dainty phalanges intervened. "I'm so GLAD you like it!" squealed she, cheeks strung higher than the sun's current whereabouts.

"It's such a relief," sighed Misty, plastering palms atop her throbbing chest to dull the rushing dopamine. Somewhat-compliments has that immense effect—flings her over cloud nine. Or maybe it's just you? "I was trying to mimic that... dish you spoke about yesterday. Is it as good as your mother's back home?"

Deadpan silence from you spoke volumes. Shit.

"Actually—" stammered she, "don't—don't answer that."

"Oh! Also—" Her pointer soared for attention, diving alongside her dipping head, peeking beneath linen tablecloths. "Thought you might be a little homesick, so..." Crinkling wraps she dragged, caged between your legs.

Unraveling its knot, "Tada!" arrayed stacks of chips imported from your motherland. "I was thinking we could snack on these while we talk?"

"Get to know each other?" Starting now.

"Like, your home? Fears?" Fantasies. "What about school? Any... fights?" paused she, noting stony face. "I-I mean, I just heard the rumors, no judgement! I don't—can't trust words without hearing it from the source first, right?"