Kurun-Kyoudai

You make me smile like the sun Fall out of bed, sing like a bird Dizzy in my head, spin like a record Crazy on a Sunday night “So do I stir it like this?” (Reader) asked, frantically spinning the wooden spoon through the sauce. “No,” Romano replied, “It’s more like this.” Placing his right hand over (Reader)’s, he guided her hand through long gentle strokes. (Reader) yelped as Romano slipped his left arm around her waist, sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin. “That’s the problem with American cooking. It’s rushed and treated like stopping at a gas station. Filling u