Prompt: Write a short story set in a restaurant kitchen.
"Service please!"
Another plate taken to hungry customers. I sigh, has the day just started?
"It's your last day Ron. Don't mope around now. You'll be free from all of this rush soon!"
Ah Melody, the head chef. Her shoulders are bent with the weight of all the years we worked in this place.
Wow. 25 years sure is a long time. To think that I no longer would be drenched in sauces and sweat. Do I really want to be free from this?
My body is used to this kitchen. Wash the carrots. The peeler is never in it's place. Yet, it's always in it's place, right beside the oven. Peel the potatoes. Slice them. Put the pot on heat. Wait, did anyone order this?
I look up to find no papers on the spindle. Well, that's why I'm returning I guess.
Being young and ambitious, cooking filled me with life. This mess, this chaos, it's what I chose. Once you get in, it's like an addiction. Coffee never really worked for me. But the moment, I stepped in through those swinging doors, I was wide awake.
Was it always easy? Hell no! I bear literal scars to prove that. Sleepless weeks, bandaged limbs, sore muscles. There were days when I visited my home. Come on, which job has busier weekends?
There's this window in the kitchen. I remember looking through it, searching for the destination of the order I just sent out. Waiting for that first bite, praying that this plate of food I poured my soul into gives them some joy.
Whatever it was, a smile, a nod or sometimes even a frown, take it in and move on. That used to be my ritual. Somewhere along the way, time robbed me of those small moments. The last time I peeked through that window, well we'll never know.
My family loves it when I cook. They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Trust me, it works with women as well. If you ask my wife if she fell in love with my cooking or me, she'll say that there never was an 'or'. It's all or none. Whatever it was, she's with me from more than two decades. I'll take that as a win.
I wonder why I never dated Mel. No one can deny her beauty even after all these years.
"Helloo? Ron!? Do you want me to fire you on the day you are retiring?? Get to work!", she slams an order on the counter.
Well, that solves the mystery.
Picking up the paper, I smile.
'Potato salad'.