Abby
Karl walks into the kitchen, and I force myself not to look at him as he strides over. I’m almost done prepping food for the line cooks, and I don’t have time to get into it with him. There’s only so much stress one person can handle before they go crazy, and I’m reaching my limit.
We’re booked out again, and one of my waiters called in sick, making us even more understaffed than usual. If not, I probably would have told Karl to just go home. I need to repost my ad sometime soon. There must be people out there who want to work in the kitchen, even as a dishwasher. I don’t know if I can keep working with him after everything.
He stops at my station and hovers for a moment. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. I slide the pile of carrots off the edge of the blade and g
