Weekend Marathon: Mallory
The weekend came fast, turning into a frantic, high-velocity blur of sensory input. The smell of singed rosemary, the rattle of the POS printer, and the dull, persistent ache in my lower back were the only constants. If my life was a program, Friday through Sunday was a stress test designed to see exactly when the hardware would fail. Friday was a cacophony of noise. The Spring Break surge crested, and Stella Cucina was transformed into a steaming, overcrowded engine room. I moved through the dining room with my “customer service face” locked into place. Every time I passed Jay in the kitchen or in the side station though, I felt a magnetic pull that threatened my center of gravity. We didn’t speak. There was no time. But once, while we were both reaching for bread baskets, his pinky f
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