| Estllin |
 31 F |
| one with the spatula, wincing as it gave off a faint crackle of burnt edges. "Close enough," she declared with a grin, refusing to let a little char ruin her morning. She plated the food with more care than it really - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| nose and blinked at the now-sharp details of the kitchen around her. The eggs were fluffy, the toast perfectly crisp, and the potatoes… well, they were a bit more on the "extra crispy" side than she'd intended. She poked - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| a clatter, and Estllin cursed softly under her breath. "Of course." She crouched down to retrieve them, but not before nearly bumping her head on the stove as she stood up. "Focus, Estllin. Focus." She finally settled her glasses on her - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| stirring the eggs and checking the potatoes. Predictably, chaos ensued. In her haste, she bumped into the counter with her hip, hard enough to send her glasses flying off her head. They hit the stone floor with - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| satisfaction as the edges crisped to a perfect golden brown. Everything seemed to be going surprisingly well — until she tried to multitask. Estllin, never one for coordination, attempted to flip the toast while simultaneously - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| gently in another pan. As the eggs scrambled, she tossed a few slices of bread into the remaining space on the stove, dropping a thick pat of butter on each one, watching with - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| satisfying sizzle, oil bubbling up around the edges. Estllin added some salt and pepper, pausing to smell the savory aroma as it filled the room. The eggs followed suit, soft and golden, cooking - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| cautious, deliberate movements, her tongue poking out in concentration. Every now and then, the knife slipped slightly, and she flinched, murmuring warnings to herself. The potatoes hit the pan with a - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| counter beside her, and Estllin eyed it with suspicion. “We meet again,” she said, narrowing her eyes as though the blade might leap out and cut her unprovoked. She diced the potatoes with - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| eggs today." She fished out the shell pieces with exaggerated care, muttering sarcastic remarks about how she’d mastered the fine art of “shell scrambling.” With the eggs whisked, she turned to the potatoes. A sharp knife glinted on the - |
