Little Miss Karens-the-Hostess

Lyrics

Sunday. One-fifteen.
The bottomless mimosas are flowing.
The eggs benedict are perfect.
A civilized hum. A contract we all signed without reading.
Until she arrived.
Little Miss Karens-the-Hostess takes her seat by the window.
The light is good for her, she notes.
And then the basket comes.
A simple offering. Wicker and white linen.
Inside, artisanal sourdough, seven years running.
She lifts a slice. Holds it to the light.
Pinches the crust. Her face a slow-motion catastrophe.
A tragedy in three acts, performed for an audience of one. Her.
"Excuse me."
"Could I speak to your manager... about the bread basket?"
And just like that, the room is hers.
Every fork is still. Every coffee, cooling.
Sunday brunch, now a hostage situation.
The hostess, twenty-two, maybe, comes to the table.
Her name is Chloe, it says on a small pin.
"Ma'am, is everything okay?"
"This," she says, gesturing at the sourdough, "is not bread. It's a... building material."
Chloe explains. This is the bread. This has always been the bread.
"I require brioche," Little Miss says. "Something... fluffy."
Chloe has never heard the word brioche in this building.
The request hangs in the air like smoke.
"Excuse me."
"Could I speak to your manager... about the bread basket?"
And just like that, the contract is torn.
Every eye is on table four. Every whisper dies.
Sunday brunch, now a hostage situation.
The manager arrives, his tie a little crooked.
He listens. He nods. He absorbs the lecture.
The history of bread, the decline of standards, the profound personal insult of this sourdough.
We, the other diners, we look at each other.
Over our lukewarm coffee.
We are all Chloe now. We are all the manager.
Trapped in the quiet hum of her disregard.
He offers a mimosa. On the house.
She accepts, with the grace of a queen accepting a pebble.
The bread basket is removed, like evidence from a crime scene.
The chatter returns, but it's different now.
Wounded.
She sips her free mimosa by the window.
Victorious.
The light is still good.