Brooke Lynn Santos |best| -

Jun blew on the spoon. The first sip was pure, unctuous warmth. The second sip was the charred, bitter crunch of the garlic. He paused. The bitterness didn't repulse him. It felt… honest. It mirrored the scorched-earth feeling in his chest. By the third sip, tears mixed with the broth. He didn’t speak. He just nodded at her.