The calm before the storm.

Family meal was the best part of the job, hands down. The calm before the storm. We’d throw together whatever scraps we had—yesterday’s bread, an overripe tomato, a handful of something that maybe shouldn’t have worked but always did. We’d eat fast, swap stories, talk shit, laugh. For a few minutes, we weren’t cooks or dishwashers or servers—we were just people, hungry in more ways than one, sharing something that felt like home in a place that never stopped moving.