Everyone knew that Sophia was a great cook. She knew that she was and knew that others enjoyed her food. When she’s alone, she’s the taster of her own food. When she’s not, she has other people’s opinions as well.

Back at your apartment, she’s cooking in the kitchen while you help around doing the little bits, like cutting up vegetables for her. She comes by with a spoon, a hand hovering under as she nudged you slightly. “Ah,” she demands gently. You obliged and took the spoonful and hummed.

Sophia looked at you almost intensely. She valued your opinions — your honesty. You looked back down at her and put the knife down, staring at her brown boba eyes. “Maybe a bit more salt,” you stated and she smiled brightly. “I thought so…” Sophia murmurs before walking away. She looks back at you over her shoulder. “Make sure you dice those, please,” Sophia adds, her head nodding at your chopped green onions.