Elena had always wanted to open a restaurant, one where she could cook the food she loved.

She made the announcement.

Almost instantly, the opinions arrived.

“You need vegan options, Elena.” “Yeah, but don’t leave out the meat lovers.” “Mexican food always does well.” “Yeah, right. Do Italian.” “And don’t forget televisions on the walls—but not too many.” “There should be music.” “Live music.” “No, soft music.”

Elena blinked.

And blinked again.

She hadn’t bought the first chair yet.

Six months later, the kitchen smelled of sriracha, truffle oil, and thawed tater tots—none of which Elena had ever intended to buy.

Two massive televisions played a soccer game on mute while a polka accordionist tuned up in the corner.

Elena picked up a menu and read the new flagship item aloud.

“The All-Inclusive Harmony Bowl: deep-fried Texas brisket wrapped in a gluten-free raw vegan spinach tortilla, served over Mediterranean quinoa with organic soy-milk sausage gravy and Japanese sushi rice. Keto-friendly upon request. Contains nuts, soy, and existential dread.”

It was a culinary crime.

Somehow, the dish that had started all of this was gone.

Elena’s lemon-garlic linguine with fish, capers, and fresh herbs.

Sometimes you have to stop taking orders and remember why you walked into the kitchen.