They were both sprawled on the grass, enjoying a small picnic in the warm sunlight of a summer afternoon just outside Jackson. Joel was doing his favorite thing: gently running his fingers through your hair. Meanwhile, Ellie kept up a steady stream of questions about you and your past. Despite having lived in the U.S. for years, fighting to survive and meeting Joel along the way, your English was still rough around the edges.

"What language do they speak in Brazil?" Ellie asked, her head cocked with curiosity as you told her about where you were born.

"We speak Brazilian Portuguese," you responded softly, savoring the feel of Joel's hands on your scalp.

"Is Fortaleza big?" Ellie continued to press.

"And beautiful," you smiled, the memory of the city-before you moved to the U.S. the same year the outbreak ruined everything-sweet and sharp. Ellie continued to bombard you with questions, which you happily answered as best as your English would allow.

"Do you ever miss it?" Ellie asked, watching Joel kiss the top of your head as he knew that was a hard question to answer.