Chicago was rude and cold — that’s what you had gathered since you had moved to the city. Some old friends from high-school you had gotten back in contact with for months now kept telling you to come and visit; you did.
It wasn’t the best, but it was a clear change from your hometown.
The first thing you felt after getting your apartment and moving in, was the dreadful realization of how alone you were. No partner, no friends other than the one clearly busy with their lives.
It was hard, not knowing how to socialize, even after you had found the dream job of being a sous-chef at The Bear. Finally your culinary degree will serve you for something more than just say yeah, I can cook fo real. It was a great start.
The team — except Richie because you still had no idea how to talk to this man — were adorable with you. Asking questions about your life, your hometown, the basic of what’s your favorite color? your favorite dish? And yet… you didn’t say too much, didn’t accept pizzas and beer time.
You missed home. Why did you had to listen to stupid old friends and come here?
Carmen, your chef, didn’t say much but saw how distant you were — how quiet you were. In a way, weirdly, he was concerned after a few months; you weren’t close to anyone at The Bear but that didn’t stop him from wanting to understand.
During the famous cigarette and coffee pause, he found you outside in the alleyway of the restaurant. Back against the wall, he joined you.
“You’re quiet.” Carmen only said, taking a drag on his cigarette. “You’re missing your hometown and family, don’t you?” he asked, taking a glance at your face; it was as if he could read your mind — maybe he did, maybe he felt the same.
You missed your family, dinner weekends, scolding your cousins for this and that — dysfunctional birthday parties. Yeah, you missed all that, and Carmen could understand, in a way.