I have no idea why I'm here. It was the only thought racing through my mind. Sure, I should have had a thousand other thoughts at that moment, but it was blank except for that. The lights were shining into my eyes so brightly I could barely focus; I think my hands were shaking, but I can't be sure. I watched numbly as this stranger, dressed smartly in a cobalt-blue three-piece suit matched with shiny black dress shoes, stood in front of me, his left hand by his side as his right reached to lift a giant cream-colored cloth off the cold metal table. I held my breath as I watched it slide slowly, inch by agonizing inch, to reveal what was underneath.
The redhead a few feet away from me was audibly hyperventilating; it was annoying me to a point where ordinarily I would have walked away. There was no walking away from this. I had made it to the final round.
I was resting my hands on the unfamiliar work area in front of me. I knew in an instant, they would have to spring to life; the next 10 minutes of my life depended on them. And as the cloth slid off that table, my breath caught in my throat.
"The secret ingredients are..." I scarcely heard the rest as my eyes grazed over the two foods on the table. Bran flakes.. and carrots! How I got so lucky, I will never know. But there was my favorite food, sitting on the table, just waiting for me. My anxiety left in an instant as I found my breath again. I could almost see the victory, with just 9 minutes and 58 seconds standing between me and the trophy.
"...And, begin!" said the voice, and I sprang into action. I rushed up and grabbed as many carrots as I could, creating a basket with my apron to help me carry them back to my station. I scurried back and grabbed a few bowls full of bran flakes, and then ran to the pantry, where the I found almost every imaginable food, spice, utensil, and cooking instrument I could possibly have imagined. I grabbed everything I could carry, dumped it on my workstation, and ran back for a second armful.
Once I had everything situated, I began. I yanked bowls out of drawers, threw pans on the stove and watched for an instant as the flame leaped to life, doing a little victory dance underneath what I hoped would be the winning dish. I diced and I chopped, I sauteed and I fried, and the next time I glanced up, I had only 3 minutes left.
As I took my pan off the heat, I glanced to my left and watched as the redhead's hands kept themselves busy. One of her curls had escaped her ponytail, and hung loosely in front of her face. And then, if by magic, something miraculously terrible happened. In swinging her hand up to push the curl out of her face, she knocked over a glass of apple cider vinegar. It splashed onto her workstation, some droplets landing on the plates she had prepared for the meal, the rest crawling along the metal surface as she looked on in horror.
"Keep going! You have 2 minutes left, contestants!"
I turned back, knowing the time she had lost was the time I had gained. My hands were steady now, and they plated my finished meal with a confidence I didn't know I possessed. Even without the spill, even without knowing what the redhead had made, I had confidence in this dish. It was one I had made many times before, for hundreds of people. Even with the strange addition of the bran flakes, I was certain this was a success. The carrots had helped me see clearly, and I was sure of my imminent win.
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