“Add seven tablespoons of mustard.” I muttered, scanning the recipe for the hundredth time. I reread it a couple times before I realized it says “teaspoons”, not “tablespoons”.

I stifled a groan as I quickly added the correct amounts of various spices into a giant pot of bubbling brown broth. I had to admit it smelled delicious, though.

I glanced at the green digits on the microwave and frown. I’m late. He’ll be here in half an hour and I haven’t even decided on a dessert!

I was dreading the visitor I was expecting. The President of GreenLife had met several senators and governors and he was coming to my house… to have dinner.

I swallowed my fear and continued stirring and chopping.

Suddenly, a whir and loud boom jolted me, burning my hand on the pot as the lights died. I bit back a scream.

I looked out the window of my house which is in the middle of the city. I couldn’t see the glow of lights in the sky that comes with living in a city. Then a knock came on the door.

I died a little inside.