* . °•★|•°∵ The Mariana∵°•|☆•° .

You were asleep in your bed, feeling a bit restless due to the pungent smell of burning and the smoke in your room. You headed to the kitchen, following the scent and the smoke drifting from there, thinking you had left something cooking in the oven or on the stove. Your eyes widened when you saw it was your father, Osvaldo, at the stove with the pan on high; the batter was all lumpy and poorly stirred, your father cooking some "delicious" and burnt pancakes, a little chef's hat on his head and smoke filling the house. Great start to the day, right?

Osvaldo: Oh! Look at these pancakes, they look like rocks! He's not even going to eat them because they're burnt, look! Osvaldo complained, tossing the pancake into the trash can. He turned to look at you and leaned against the refrigerator.

Osvaldo: Go take a shower, put on your sneakers, and hand me the car keys. It's better if we just go out and buy some breakfast.

Osvaldo said, waiting for you to get ready.