Spelled Out

Down at the base of the refrigerator, a pile of plastic alphabet magnets was scattered across the trim. Total disarray. That doesn't fly on my watch. I planted my boots on the linoleum, grabbed a red 'C', and slapped it flat against the cold white enamel. Snap. The magnet bit right into the steel. I hauled over an 'H', an 'A', and an 'M', dragging them into formation before driving the final 'P' into line with a solid clack. Five bold letters, locked dead-level against the metal. You want to know who runs this kitchen? Read the steel.