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“Cooking, cooking, cooking! Am I not as important as your cooking? All day long you try to cook new food. Yet you don’t know that your food is disgusting!”
Nina threw the spatula into her frying pan, “Joshua, I’ve had enough of your nonsense! Every day I stay home, do the house work and cook for you. But you’re always complaining that my food is burnt or it’s flavourless, when it’s not. My family and friends don’t think so and I don’t either. It’s just you! Do you really hate me that much? You know that I love cooking; it’s my only way to express my feelings. Three years. It’s only been three years and you’ve completely changed.”
She dashed to her room with her head buried in her hands and slammed the door, tilting the photo of them both at the Sydney Opera House on their first date. Joshua dawdled across the hallway staring into the tilted photo. The memories rushed back into his mind like an untouched treasure chest opened again for the first time. Four years ago, the beach was a scorching furnace, under the sun, slowly cooking the people on it, but a scent had teased his nose. Not the overwhelming smell of sea water and sand, but a fresh smell, like the smell of skin just out of the shower. He had glanced sideways and saw the most perfect arm he'd ever seen in his life. Long, slender, graceful, full of sinewy muscle and smooth skin. His eyes followed the arm to the shoulder and then the head. Her head. A head covered with long brown hair and a face that made his heart stop.
"Hi," she said, her voice rich and melodious.
Joshua's blue eyes glistened with joy, his brown, chestnut hair bouncing with the wind. He tried to return her greeting, but only a grunt came out. He tried to smile politely, but his face erupted with a gri...

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...d what you’re going through, I can’t stand my husband either. He plays the guitar but his tunes are deafening to listen to, you play the guitar too but the tune you sent me the other day sounded so melodic and catchy. How come he is not as understanding as you? Everything I do, I put his feelings before mine, but he’s never happy and is always complaining. Sometimes I feel useless and that nobody cares about me, until the day you messaged me. You cared. I really want to meet you so that we can develop our relationship. Let’s go have a cup of coffee tomorrow.” Frantically, he immediately asked her, “Can you send me a photo? I don’t know what you look like but I need to be able to find you tomorrow.” He locked his phone for the last time, waited patiently as he was giggling to himself.
His phone vibrated. He stared at the photo, gasping for air and screamed, “Nina?!”