The sounds of the usual late-night broadcast of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air echoed around the apartment living room. As you closed the door behind you, the sight of a clean homemade you smile.
What caught your eye was the stove. A small pot of Mac and cheese that Celeste made, it was the only thing she knew how to make.
You slid off your shoes, dropped your bag on the ground, and skipped into your daughter's room. The door was cracked open a bit, just enough to see that she wasn't asleep but laying down to pass the time. You pushed the door open to make room for yourself to squeeze past.
"Psst, Cel, you awake?" You whispered softly from the left side of the bed. She flipped over to greet you with a smile. Her tight black curls that freely bounced around, was now packaged tight underneath a pink silk bonnet. Celeste was your pride and joy, not to mention your life manager.
