Iris dried the last saucepan and hung it up on its designated hook, gave the counters a final wipe, checked that the fridge was shut tight, and took off her apron. Her first full day in the kitchen was done, now on to the cleaning she hadn’t gotten to between meal rushes.
She caught her reflection in the gleaming metal counter, and was surprised at how happy and glowy she looked. It was funny to think how her life had utterly changed in some ways, but stayed exactly the same in others. After all, she was still cooking and serving and cleaning, still getting up stupid early and staying on her feet all day – but this felt completely different.
This time, it was her conscious, informed choice to do all of these things. This time she was getting paid. This time, she could eat the damn muffin
