I can smell the onions. They caramelize, they stick to the pan. I can hear her scraping. I can see the fresh bread.
“French onion soup”, she says.
How do I tell her? All I want is rice and my mother’s rasam.
I grinned a lot (and jumped a little) when I saw that this microstory was the editor’s pick! This is what Christine had to say:
Yeah write #209 weekly writing challenge staff picks: microstories
comfort food by anusrini20