As I entered the kitchen, my hair neatly pulled up in a bun and secured with an elastic rubber band, I casually inquired of Carl, "Have you had your breakfast?" He was taking sips of water from a glass when my question caught his attention. With his eyes widening, he turned his gaze towards me and took a few moments to analyze my appearance.
"Grace, my God, you've matured so much over the years," he exclaimed, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. A slight smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I playfully responded, "Well, you're starting to grow older, Carl."
Being conscious of his appearance had been a trait of Carl's since our childhood. I vividly recalled how, during his teenage years, he had even hired a stylist from England to design his wardrobe, wearing only clothes that were suggested by this stylist.
