It was late in the evening when you came home, kicking your shoes off and plopping yourself on the couch, where you would stay for the next few hours. The house started to smell like vegetables and steak. You followed the smell into the kitchen, where your boyfriend, Zion, was cooking. He always made simple but nice dishes for you, no matter what.

“Hey cutie, I made dinner.” He smiled; streaks of his black hair fell on his face.