Comfort food

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:

With delicate, loving detail, Anusha sets up a scene full of warm, homey comfort – and then turns it on its head with five words: “How do I tell her?” There’s a longing in the last line that caught me completely unawares. It’s a nostalgia we’re all familiar with, coupled with an unwillingness to admit it lest we hurt someone. A simple story, beautifully crafted.

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12 thoughts on “Comfort food

  1. Your inclusion of details, like the onions sticking to the pan and her scraping them, makes the reader almost able to smell those onions cooking too. Great job 🙂 Mmmm. I love caramelized onions.

    Like

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