“Okay, Abby. Let’s get everything in place. Farro mafaldine, black truffle butter, and the mushrooms,” John says, his hand passing over each individual ingredient—and lingering over the coveted black truffles—as he speaks. I nod. My body feels like it’s about to burst, I’m so excited. “I can’t b
Abby A sudden jolt of fear seizes me as I lock eyes with the man at the far end of the alley. “You there!” he repeats, taking another step closer. “What are you—” “Um… Karl? John?” I call out, mainly out of instinct. If there’s one thing that living in the city over the past few years has taug
Karl’s eyes narrow. “Are you serious, Abby? We don’t even know this guy.” “I know. And I promise, if anything happens, you can kick him out. But I have to do this, Karl. I just have to.” Karl searches my eyes, and I can see him wrestling with his judgment. He sighs, defeated by whatever it is he
Abby My heart pounds as the room goes quiet. What on earth is happening right now? We’re all looking at each other—me, Karl, John, and the homeless man. His eyes meet mine, full of a sort of knowing energy that leaves me speechless. Is this a joke? He really has experience cooking with black tru
A few minutes later, Anton’s hands are washed, his long hair is pulled back, and an apron is covering his grimy clothes. Karl, John, and I are sitting on stools on the opposite side of the counter while Anton inspects each ingredient carefully, like he’s preparing to build something magnificent. K
Abby My heart hammers in my chest as Anton’s words hang in the air between us. “Everything comes at a price,” he said. I’m hooked, completely sold on whatever secret culinary world he comes from, but his cryptic statement sends shivers down my spine. What could he possibly mean? “Alright… what
I look into Karl’s eyes. “What, like I did with you?” I murmur. Karl’s eyes widen for a moment. His expression shifts from skepticism, to anger, and finally to understanding before his gaze drops to the floor. I can tell I struck a chord with him, and maybe it’s for the best; to remind him that I
Abby I walk into my restaurant the next morning, the scent of fresh coffee and baked bread filling the air. The morning sun casts long beams of light through the windows, but the atmosphere inside feels oddly electric, tense yet filled with a strange and unexpected kind of exhilaration. It’s the