I enter the kitchen, juggling multiple plates, glasses, and cutlery like a circus performer. I reach the sink and carefully place down the dirty dishes, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my forearm.
“It’s like every man and his goat is at the diner today,” remarks Estaban as he works the grill like a pro.
“Dog, Estaban. The expression is, ‘every man and his dog’,” corrects Áine gently.
“Goat, dog, cat, who cares?” he shrugs nonchalantly, making us chuckle.
“You’re not wrong though. It’s only ever this busy during the holidays.”
It’s only twelve o’clock and we’re already run off our feet. I feel like I should check my steps for the day because it has to be high. Neither of my jobs are high-perspiration jobs, and yet here I am soaking my pits because I’m running from table
