Crew breakfast, second edition

Made the full firehouse breakfast this morning — eggs, potatoes, the works. It's a tradition I carted around for twenty years, except now it's just me and the dogs in the kitchen, so I had to decide if it was worth it. Turns out the ritual holds. I stood there flipping pancakes at 6am, thinking about the way a table sounds when it's full of people who haven't slept, and every one of them is about to go swing an axe. It's not the same, but it's something. Empty kitchen, full plate, and a quiet that does remember the noise.