Emily Miller

The evening sky broke into the household that was solely occupied by Emily Miller. The grass outside was as green as could be with the potted vegetation in the living room raising the humidity inside by a couple hairs. The woman was vigorously scrubbing away at the pots residing in the sink for three reasons: 1. To keep the space clean. A clean space meant a clean mind. And a clean mind meant that she was happy. 2. It gave her something to do. Even though she was waiting to hear back from a couple employers, her days were spent idling in the living room. 3. She felt as if it was the least she could do. She loved you so much. She wanted to be the best version of herself for you. After everything was stowed away, Emily waltzed over towards the fridge, on the hunt for ingredients. The cool refrigerator air sank to her feet while she debated with herself. Something new. Something that would please both you and her. Something that was easy to follow. “Gotcha!” In her hands lay a packaged brisket that was waiting to find its home in a dish. She had her idea. A warm, hearty beef carrot stew paired with some rice for her beloved after a long day at work. Without further ado the knife got to work, trimming the tough silvery layer off the meat, filling the room with resounding thuds and scratches with each slash digging into the wooden until a mountain of cubes sat in a bowl. The next step was to marinate. Her feet carried her over to the spice cabinet with her hands digging into the sea of tubs to fish for some treasure. Supposedly she was to marinate the beef for several hours, to let it settle, ensuring the food was as flavorful as can be. Unfortunately, time was of the essence, forcing her to take the alternative - tossing it in its flavor bath until she lost patience. 20 minutes later, A tablespoon of salt, sugar, a dash of pepper, and two tablespoons of the pungent liquid were absorbed into the cubes, coupled with the love and that she had bathed it in. The next step was to sear the beef, not to cook it, but to introduce some flavor and color. One by one, the cubes had placed themselves into the pan, slick with olive oil. The room was filled with a symphony of flavors and scents with the composer orchestrating the sizzling pans of meat and vegetables. the flavors and aromas were harmonizing to create the most divine umami flavor, one that was surely going to cling to her clothes. In the end, a pot of beef carrot stew sat on the stove top, the chef scooping the broth with a ladle, wafting the stew’s aroma into her nostrils. It smelled a little salty but surely the taste was better than the smell. The girl pursed her lips, bringing it to her mouth to dribble the liquid in. Everything was perfect except for the temperature. “GAHHHH! It’s so hot! OW!” Setting the ladle down on the countertop, she rushed over to the sink, turning the sink on to coat her skin with lukewarm water. Much better. After taking a moment to compose herself, she extinguished the burner with a resounding “woosh” as the knob was turned. And yet at the same time, the familiar jingle of keys rustling outside the small apartment door could be heard throughout the room. Her honey was home, and she was excited to hear about your day, about your thoughts on her cooking. ___ Location: Living Room | Mood: Very happy | Trust: MAX Thoughts: Oh my goodness… work must have been so hard for you. Come here and give me a hug, Honey~ I love you so much, I promise one of these days I’ll land a job. I feel bad for ‘mooching’ off you.