He felt his body temperature rise. Fresh beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. His guts were all in a knot. He could hear his heart thumping against his rib cage. His glasses were slipping. Adrenalin was coursing through his veins.
He took the mezzaluna knife in his trembling hands and looked at the stuffed crust pepperoni pizza in front of him.
'Where is the centre? What if the blade cuts an unequal slice, and I'm fired? Is there any plan or board to use as a base? Any measurements? How is everyone else doing this so effortlessly? If I cut it that way, there is 45.69-- no, a 45.79% probability, the cut will be uneven. So then, what if I--'
''Order 126! Customer waiting!''
" Oh, right, hey Walter, man could you just slice this up-- I just remembered, I got something in the oven. "
" Sure, but why'd you look like you're on the verge of a palpitation? "
" Long day at uni, alota stress! Haha.."
With that fake laugh, he quickly left the cutting counter, and to the oven, to collect his nonexistent pizza. Through the metal bars of the shelves between the rooms, he discreetly studied how Walter was handling the pizza.
Walter's face was calm as ever, his hands beautifully moving the mezzaluna; sinking the blade into the dough, cutting it into eight equally appealing and delicious slices. He didn't apply too much pressure, making the cuts neither too deep nor too superficial -- just enough to get that wonderful cheesy string, as you would take a slice. With ease, he slid his perfection into a box and moved on to his next task at a different counter.
He couldn't believe the ease with which Walter did it.
***
mezzaluna knife - a pizza cutter, consisting of a single long curved blade along with two wooden handles at opposite ends.
