anniefelis

It was warm.  Very, very warm.  So warm that the cook's ruddy face was doubly-ruddy from the heat; usually, it was just from screaming at the serving girl.  He usually screamed simply because his waitress was off in her own little world.  He had hired her because she was available, and she was cute.  Cuteness and availability, however, do not make up for flakeyness. Sarah didn't consider herself flakey...as a matter of fact, she thought she was rather intelligent.  It wasn't her fault that Belcha would take forever to cook something and thus she would get bored.  It wasn't any wonder that a slim volume of blank pages was tucked into her apro