| 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 - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| demeanor suggested. That is, until one egg split awkwardly in her hands, yolk and shell landing on the counter in a sticky mess. "Brilliant," Estllin sighed, wiping her hands on the nearest dish towel. "Guess we’re having shell with our scrambled - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| She grabbed a few ingredients from the pantry: eggs, potatoes, a loaf of bread that looked as if it had seen better days, and some butter that was thankfully fresh. As she cracked the eggs, her hands worked with more precision than her groggy - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| She winced, freezing for a moment, but when no one came rushing in, she sighed in relief. "I swear the universe is out to test me before I've had coffee," she muttered, trying to shake off her clumsiness. - |
| Estllin |
31 F |
| a row of hooks above the counter, squinting as she felt for the right one. With her typical absentmindedness, she misjudged the weight and sent the entire row of pans rattling in protest. - |
