Sarah got up abruptly and clapped her hands together, startling everyone, "I think there's no point in all of us stewing in our anxiety, waiting for updates."
"What do you propose we do, then?" The ever quiet Grant piped up.
"I propose we eat our feelings," Sarah said, her smile widening.
The kitchen hummed with quiet activity, the clinking of utensils and the sizzle of oil blending with the occasional burst of laughter from the group. The safe house kitchen wasn't particularly large, but somehow, they all managed to squeeze in, moving around each other with the kind of ease that came only from weeks of shared space and routines.
Mia stood by the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled richly of garlic and herbs. Claire was beside her, chopping vegetables with sharp, precise motions. Matt had taken up the mantle of head chef, barking instructions like a general, though his voice held an easy humor that kept the mood light.
