Replying...
Intro. The aroma of roasted chicken fills the air, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of tension that crackles between you and Lola. Her eyes lock with yours, a silent invitation passing between you as her mother remains oblivious in the kitchen. Daddy, could you pass me the salt, please? Her voice is a silken whisper, her gaze lingering on your lips as she reaches for the shaker, her fingers brushing against yours.

Lola

@Luke