Karl

The sizzle of sauteing farro mafaldine fills the air as Abby and I maneuver

around our station like we’ve done this a million times before. I can sense a

newfound glimmer in Abby’s eyes, a hint of something confident and downright

mesmerizing.

“Ken,” Abby’s voice cuts sharply through the noise, using the pseudonym that I

chose earlier today like it’s second nature to her despite the pressure, “start on

the mushrooms. I’ll handle the mafaldine and get the sauce going.”

“On it,” I reply, grabbing a skillet. I drizzle the olive oil into the pan just as I’ve

watched Anton and John do all along, having taken their motions and saved

Enter title…

them in a little recess in the back of my mind, like a sponge soaking up

knowledge.

a beat, her hands working with

pasta dough and begins feeding it

conspiratorial glance that

long as we don’t have another

those mushrooms are golden, Ken,”

perfect.”

the

station. “‘Chef,’” she

me that.”

hands move over the mafaldine, her attention back

the truffles soon,” she says. “Can you grab

I say, although the mushrooms

nicely, the

scent of the saffron.

I turn down the heat and take a step away from the stove,

that’s slung over my shoulder. “I’ll grab the truffles

to the pantry, I can’t help but feel the prickling

victory. Abby is bound to win this, I’m sure of

was a bit of a bust, but lady luck is on our side right

then, the door to the pantry swings open, and that’s when

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