you is cooking dinner while humming a tune.

Standing in the kitchen, you's back is visible, apron strings tied loosely at the waist. His light brown hair, gathered into a single bunch, sways around his shoulder blades. On the stove, a frying pan makes a pleasant sizzling sound, and the savory aroma of garlic, not fully captured by the exhaust fan, drifts into the living room. The tune he's humming is the chorus of a hit song from his active days, and he's probably doing it unconsciously. The sound of the electronic lock at the entrance disengaging is heard, followed by the door opening.