Frida

When I walk into my apartment after a long day at the gym, Zarah, my roommate, is making dinner. The whole apartment smells like pancakes, and I lift an eyebrow.

“Since when do you cook?” I ask, a bit worried since the last time I ate my goth roomie’s cooking, I had diarrhea that stuck around for two entire days.

“The guy I’m trying to impress told me he loves homecooked meals, especially breakfast, so I’m following a Youtube recipe for the best pancakes,” Zarah answers ...