A month later, the kitchen moved like clockwork.
Dishes clattered, pans sizzled, orders flew — but everything ran smoother. Calmer.
Sasha stood near the pass, clipboard in hand, watching the floor.
Reed, now a confident fixture at the dish station, moved swiftly — stacking, scrubbing, rinsing, repeating.
Luis flipped omelettes like he was born doing it.
And the new server — a girl named Maya, barely nineteen, wide-eyed and quick — rushed into the kitchen, balancing a full tray.
"Table six needs refills, table four asked for no onions — I think I messed up. Am I messing up?"
Sasha smiled. "You're doing fine."
Maya exhaled, frazzled. "How do you keep cool with all this chaos?"
Sasha looked around.
Once upon a time, this same scene would've broken her.
Now?
She saw systems, people, patterns — not just problems.
Sasha replied, "I wasn't always cool."
Maya tilted her head. "Really? I heard stories… about a server who used to fight the dishwasher. Like… really fight."
Luis snorted from the grill. "It's all true."
Maya blinked. "Was that… you?"
Sasha smiled. "Let's just say I learned to count my teeth with my tongue — early."
Maya laughed nervously, not quite sure what that meant.
Sasha walked over, helped her balance the tray.
"You'll learn," she said. "It's not about staying happy every day. It's about staying whole."
That night, Sasha closed the dish drop — clean, dry, ready for tomorrow.
She turned off the lights, locked the door, and walked out.
And for the first time, she wasn't thinking about Debbie, or the past, or the next shift.
She was just present — and finally, free.