dinner served cold, again and again

Lately, I’ve lost a lot of my appetite; everything seems unappetizing. When I try to step back into the kitchen, I’m reminded of the days on the line: flames running amok, oil splatters on the ground, a sea of tickets and the sick feeling deep in my stomach. I become lost in a cloud of smoke and steam. Still, the food was frozen, if there was anything there that you could call food. Nothing could warm it. In those moments, I long for the taste of simpler times, where flavors were not lost in the chaos. The joy of cooking was nothing more than a distant memory.