The Kitchen's Deadly Silence
The vast kitchen was enveloped in an eerie stillness after the maids left.
Only the faint scraping of spoons swaying in the draft from the corridor,
and the soft drip of water from the silver sink, broke the silence.
Qasim, the cook, sat on a wooden stool near the stove, wiping the sweat from his brow with the edge of his white apron. He muttered under his breath, half to himself:
Qasim (whispering): "What party are they talking about? Since when do we suddenly have parties?"
Across the room, Daniel was arranging the last of the bags inside the large refrigerator.
He stopped abruptly, then slowly closed the refrigerator door—the sound of it slamming echoed sharply, like a blade cutting through the air.
He turned toward Qasim, his eyes drained of warmth,
