The chef sat in the canteen, just outside his kitchen. Toque on the table, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh.
"Somezhing is wrong... But vhat?... I do not feel right, like somezhing big is coming. Somezhing dangerous."
Ivan chewed his lip, considering his options.
"... I have been here for decades now... Time is catching up... It might be time to move-- I cant. Zhese people still need me."











