Sundays

The sun was setting. It was half past 4. The blues, oranges, and purples blended into the sky, and the snow still covered everything like a dusting of powdered sugar. It was only half past four. It changed the kitchen, it was no longer a pale yellow, but a reflection of the outside world. The steam from the windows, heated up the window.

The kitchen was warm and inviting, but at the moment, just to the left, you could see Rumi-Elizabeth standing by the stove. She had her pink apron on, the one with the snowflakes.

She had taken the cover off of her stew, it was simple dahl and dumpling soup. Fitting for the weather. It was almost ready. The Hops were done and sat off to the side in a basket.

Rumi-Elizabeth had set the dining table. It was meant to be comforting, she had left the current rolls in the oven so it could be warm when she finally took them out.

Her phone buzzed; he was here. She took off her apron. She did not want to look too homely. She took one glance at the mirror, and Rumi felt as if she was pretty. She knew she was people. People often commented on her looks, whether she was on the subway or the street. But more every day everyone kept telling her she looked like her mom. Her outfit was simple, but nothing too simple. A Weasley sweater, and high-waisted black trousers; she kept her jewelry simple, with gold hoops, her gold pendant, and her grandmother's ruby ring and silver watch, she let her braids cascade down her shoulders, she would put them up if she felt overwhelmed.

As she walked downstairs, she took a very deep breath and opened the door. There he was. He stood there, with the warmth of his body fogging up his glasses. His knitted hat was pulled down and wrapped up in a big jacket. His cheeks were pink with the winter cold. But all Rumi-Elizabeth was drawn to be the Rockettes in his hand, wrapped up in brown crafted paper. It stood out against the bright snow and the setting of the sun. She couldn't stop the smile that was erupting on her face.

They were hit with snow yesterday and she was unsure how he got the flowers, but he did.

"Hi"

"Hi" she smiled into her eyes, invoking a blush that normally appears in below-1 weather.

"I should let you In, it's freezing outside."

"That would be nice"

"I live upstairs" he followed her upstairs, taking off his shoes by the door. She didn't even have to ask.

He was trailing behind her.

Immediately, as they entered her apartment: she was hit with the powerful heat of her apartment, immediately making her cheekbones rise, and as engulfed by the powerful smell of dahl and turmeric. Immediately, turning around to him, Rumi-Elizabeth said "Please let me take your coat and anything else you want to put away, you can sit on the couch in the meantime dinner will be served soon"

"That is very sweet of you, thank you" he said, taking his coat, she went to the side closet and placing on the hanger next to hers. Making her way back to Kamren, as he now sat cross-legged on the salmon couch, smiling at her.

"Does this feel weird? You seem nervous. I am not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

"Only if you make it weird, you brought flowers. I hoped they were for me. I did not know if you had somewhere to go after this." She was mumbling. Kamron gave her a serious look. It was silly, but she had to make sure. Rumi-Elizabeth did not want to fall prey to past mistakes of the last 27 years of her life (her entire life). Her romance was a usual tango that has always flipped upside down. He got up and crossed the living room in strides bouquet in hand.