You adjusted your grip on the casserole dish, feeling the heat seep through the oven mitts.

The mac and cheese had taken three tries to get right. You'd wanted it to be perfect.

The door swung open before you could knock.

He stepped aside, ushering you into the foyer. The house smelled like garlic and simmering sauce.

The living room opened to your right. A boy sat on the leather couch, legs crossed, phone glowing in his hands.

Dark hair. Sharp features. He didn't look up.