A soft smile played on Mia's lips as she slept. Her brow remained smooth, untroubled by the anxieties that often plagued her waking hours.
In the dreamy world behind her closed eyelids, she found herself standing beside a familiar counter with Jeff beside her, their arms brushing as they leaned in over a sizzling pan. The scent of sizzling garlic and rosemary filling the air.
"Just a little less pressure, Mia," Jeff's voice, warm and familiar, cut through the dream. "You want to sear it, not flatten it."
Mia giggled, adjusting her grip on the spatula. The playful banter, the shared task, the easy companionship - it was everything she craved but could never have in the real world.
Laughter danced on the edge of her lips as Jeff, his grin wider than the spatula, as he held up a perfectly seared steak.
"Voila!" he declared, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "See, Mia? It's not magic, just a little technique."
