Casey threw down her apron and leaned against the work surface, sighing sorrowfully. She wished she could erase the overheard conversation from her memory, but still their words continued to swirl around in her mind. “Her cooking’s getting worse. I fear she’ll never amount to anything.” The hushed tones of her best friend rose once more to the forefront of her thoughts. It tore pieces in her psyche; rotted any irrelevant pathways and brain cells until Mandy’s words were the only thing left in her mind.
Casey glanced cursorily at her latest cooking attempt. Although several acquaintances had visited in the past couple of days, the majority of the contents had remained in the pan. She was surprised to find that new life had formed around several pieces of burnt chicken since her last inspection.
She grasped the handle of the saucepan and treaded carefully to the dustbin, holding the pot at arm’s length as she did so. Her foot kicked the lid open and she quickly dropped the evil concoction into its mouth, pan and all. At least the bin doesn’t mind my cooking.
Wiping her hands on her skirt, she reached for her phone and decided to treat herself to a takeaway.