Behind Closed Doors

Stella

As Vance speaks, my fingers worry the hem of my white chef’s coat, now no longer pristine but splattered with sauce and tiny stains and the remains of haphazardly cooked meals. It feels like a perfect representation of my inner world right now: once untarnished and lily-white, but now stained and weathered from the trials I’ve been through today.

We’re still standing in the supply closet,