โธ Tap to react
He stirs with a wooden spoon the size of an oar. The cauldron is iron, black, older than the bricks beneath it. Fire licks the bottom โ orange, small, enough to warm but not to cook. He does not need heat. He needs motion.
His eyes are yellow โ RGB 219, 173, 90 โ wide, happy, the eyes of someone who enjoys the work regardless of the result. The chef hat is white and too tall. It brushes the single bulb that hangs from the ceiling. The bulb flickers. He does not notice.
The cellar is gray stone, 11.8% of the frame. Spiderwebs in the corners. A shelf with one kettle, one bottle, nothing else. The floor is stone too. Everything is stone except him and the fire and the soup that may not exist.