Abby
All I can do is watch, helpless, as Karl’s form recedes.
He’s being guided forcibly away by the firm hand of a security guard, and he’s yelling something over the din of the crowd, the announcer, and the sounds of cooking.
I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, it’s frantic. But before I can make sense of it, a microphone is suddenly shoved in my face, and the camera blocks my view of Karl’s fading form.
“Abby, what’s happening? Does your sous chef often show such aggressive behavior?” The announcer’s voice breaks through my train of thought, loud and grating over the microphone. I feel frozen to my spot, unsure of what to do.
“I… Um… Excuse me,” I manage, pushing past the announcer and hurrying toward the edge of the stage, toward where Karl and t
