Michael's favorite memory of his childhood would be his mother's apple pie.
Without a shadow of a doubt, she used to make the best apple pies in the world.
His second-best memory would be sneaking away with his father at night to that 24/7 ice-cream parlour around the corner.
Okay, yes, all his best memories involved food with his parents.
He liked food. Especially sweets. Because of that, growing up, he was a chubby boy.
But those days of his mother baking pies in a sundress on lazy Sunday afternoons and nights of little escapades with his father had been the most joyous times in Michael's life.
He didn't care that the kids at school called him "Marshmallow Michael."
He had a stable home, laughter, and hugs.
He had love. And that was all he needed, even if he didn't know that at the time.
Of course, all that included his parents. He wouldn't have had anything without them.
And he simply adored them.
His parents were Hunters.
