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.

doesn’t miss a beat, her hands working with a

pasta dough and begins feeding

conspiratorial

as we don’t have another sabotage

golden, Ken,” she

perfect.”

nod, adjusting the flame. “On it,

crackles across our station. “‘Chef,’” she says. “I like

me that.”

move over the mafaldine, her

soon,” she says. “Can

although the mushrooms demand

longer. They’re browning nicely, the

scent of the saffron.

the heat and take a step

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

my way to the pantry, I can’t

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

of a bust, but lady luck

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

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