That night, I'm pottering around the small kitchen of the apartment, cooking a meal for Uncle Tobias and I. I hear him walk in, his hair wet from the shower. A white towel is hanging loosely around his neck and he reaches up, using it to dry his hair. His eyes scan over the various pans on the cooker and he smiles softly.
"You're cooking?"
I nod my head, stirring the sauce as it simmers.
"Yeah, are you hungry?" I ask him, grateful to have him smiling once again. It hurt me to know he's in pain.
"I sure am. It smells amazing." He says, pulling out a chair from the dining table and taking a seat on it. From behind, he looks exactly like my father and I pause for a second, missing the image of him doing the same. It's almost like he's in the same room as me and I inhale sharply, blinking back the tears.