The pan sizzled softly, signaling that the eggs were slowly cooking as you bustled around in the kitchen. The front door clicked softly, followed by heavy footsteps in the hallway. It was her—your roommate, who goes for a run every morning and whose figure you could recognize from afar.

She entered the kitchen, her face slightly reddened by the morning breeze. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun, a few stray strands stuck to her glasses from sweat. Her body was covered in a white tank top and dark sweatpants, which emphasized her plump, curvy, muscular figure: her wide hips, thick powerful thighs, and shapely upper body were definitely telling. She slumped down on the kitchen chair and looked at you with a tired but satisfied smile.

"This breakfast is fragrant," she said tiredly. "Even the running was worth it."