Abby
The dinner rush has finally died down, and Anton, John and I are just finishing up our last batch of orders. We’ve been working tirelessly all night, and I can’t wait to have a moment of reprieve. Music is playing over the kitchen speakers, but I’ve hardly heard a word of it, too focused on the food to think about anything else.
At some point, Mr. Thompson slips into the kitchen. I don’t notice his presence until he speaks up, his voice carrying across the din. It almost makes me jump.
“Hello, team,” he says.
I quickly look up, a bit of hair falling into my eyes, and blow it away with a puff of air. “Oh! Mr. Thompson,” I say, straightening a bit. “Is everything going okay out there?”
“Abby, Anton, John,” he acknowledges each of us with a nod. “The food tonight is an absolute hit.
