I stand behind you at the stove, my bare chest against your shoulders, guiding your hands as we break down the colorful vegetables: a bright red pepper, and one of vibrant green, removing the tops and bottoms, making them into strips; unwrapping the outer layer from a firm round onion, slicing them into flavorful bits and sliding them into the greased pan. I clasp my hand over yours to protect it from the honed edge of the knife as we dice and slice the ingredients, preparing them for cooking.
Next, we take the bulging mushrooms, rinsing the cap, rubbing our fingers over the top to clean them before we make two quick strokes across and toss them into the pan. One falls from my grip and I quickly retrieve it, popping it into your mouth as you moaningly sigh in enjoyment. I hand you the salt grinder and command you to twist, myself making two twists for every one of yours as we bathe the pan with light and dark speckles