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.

miss a beat, her hands working with a practiced

the pasta dough and begins feeding it through the

a quick, conspiratorial glance that says

so long as we don’t have another sabotage on

golden, Ken,” she says. “They need to

perfect.”

adjusting the flame. “On

crackles across our station. “‘Chef,’”

me that.”

her hands move over the mafaldine, her attention back

she says. “Can you grab

the mushrooms demand

the nutty aroma mixing with

scent of the saffron.

turn down the heat and take a

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

pantry, I can’t help but feel the

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

bit of a bust, but lady luck is

swings open, and

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