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 day after last night’s events, and I’m running on a blend of excitement and worry, my thoughts a

toss-up between optimism and that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Did I make a mistake with Anton? Was it all an elaborate con for free food and a hotel room, or perhaps

even a bizarre dream? Most importantly, what if he never actually shows?

As I head toward the kitchen, though, it quickly becomes apparent that something is off. My staff are

gathered around the kitchen door, oohing, aahing, and giggling at something going on inside.

Enter title…

ask as I see my restaurant manager limping his way

concern

brought into the kitchen?

against the counter and rubbing his forehead

the realization. “Yes, Ethan, that’s Anton. He’s our

run to see how he fits

doesn’t press further. He knows me too well to question my

until we’re in

make my way through the maze of excited staff. I reach the

when the tantalizing aroma of something sweet and creamy

I hear it—laughter. Real, genuine laughter echoing through

your batter has more

as a

which sounds even more delightful in the

room. “Anton,

me—this will be the best damn cheesecake you’ve ever

my eyes light up. There’s Anton, standing near the counter with John

watch in awe. They’re like a comedy

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