Abby

On the morning of the cook-off, I’m already awake before my alarm even starts

buzzing.

Last night, I hardly slept at all thanks to a combination of excitement over the

cook-off and my wine-induced conversation with Karl. All night, his words

swirled around my mind: “I’m really proud of you,” he had said.

Hearing Karl say those words was so unexpected, yet so heartwarming at the

same time. I can’t get them out of my mind, like a lost puppy who’s found her

home, or a shipwreck survivor lost at sea who has found a lifeline. It’s strange

how much of an impact it has had on me.

Enter title…

As soon as my alarm goes off, though, I pop out of bed and thrust myself into

cook-off mode. Today is not the day to be thinking about my ex-husband. Today,

focus on winning that cook-off, otherwise all of my efforts will

been for nothing.

a slightly-too-hot shower, I pull my hair back into a neat and tidy

change into a uniform for the

for something simple: a t-shirt, jeans,

it,” I murmur to myself, checking my reflection one last

out. “Today’s the

down the stairs, grabbing the go-bag that I prepared

my street for a quick pick-me-up

jingles over my head as I step inside, and

brewed

sweet lady named Carol, is behind the

The usual?”

Carol. Yes, please—black coffee, one

and soon I’m sipping my

throat. It’s like a little cup of

my coffee in one hand and a bagged croissant in the other,

air is crisp, the sun rising in

feel optimistic about

alive as

surprised face when he sees how pumped I

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