The omelet cooking class
is well-attended. After years
of failing, my wife said,
“Bite the bullet, Nate.”
“You mean butter the pan?”
I replied. She considered
divorce for a half hour. Her
finger hung like a pendulum
over the keypad. I knew better
than to double dog dare her.
That’s why I’m here.
The groggy eyes of devotion
are set in every face. Even
our celebrity chef, flown in
from Connecticut, has a pair.
Before he breaks an egg, he
asks to dim the lights. A tiny
prayer is offered. We’re in
the same gravy boat; it takes
everything not to scum-over.
Nate Logan was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. His recent work appears in Bad Pony and Dream Pop Journal. He’s editor and publisher of Spooky Girlfriend Press and teaches at Ivy Tech.