Midnight Pho

Journal

The exam tried to eat me. I came home with my brain in a paper bag.

Priya had already put the pot on.

The pot was already on.

"You don't have to talk," she said.

"You have to eat."

She meant both.

We sat on the floor with the steam in our faces.

Cheap chopsticks. Good broth. No performance.

The steam was enough.

I told her I thought I failed.

She said, "Then we try again. That's the whole point of having a kitchen at midnight."

Midnight was the point.

Priya washed the bowls without making it a lesson.

I dried them without making it a speech.

The bowls were enough.

I slept. In the morning the pot was still on the stove, clean.

That is how I knew I could take the exam again.

The pot was ready.