They Tried To Throw Me Out Of My Own Restaurant Until The Chef Stepped In

the kitchen noise come through the door behind me: laughter, the clink of glasses, someone arguing about whether cilantro was genetic or a choice. The sound of people who had chosen each other.

“I saw the menu online,” Janine said. “The étouffée.”

“Lorraine’s recipe. We call it Laurel.”

A pause so long I could hear her breathing.

“She would have been there continue reading …