Between the pages of a novel, I take a break to make a quick lunch in the kitchen. Bare feet on tile floors and the sound of water filling into a pan. I hadn't expected to be home today. Neither had I expected once I found myself here that I'd be simply watching Springer re-runs and racing towards Franzen's 600th page. But then again, what you expect isn't always what happens, is it?
As the burner shifts towards red and the water reacts, there's a sound like wind running through high tree branches. It's the sort of thing you notice when you're outside trying to think - only the thoughts won't come.
Absently waiting for the water to boiI, I open the package. Inside the plastic, hugging the noodles like remora, are not one - but two silvery packets.
In all the years I've eaten this, in all the time that I've cooked these things up the wrong way, this has never happened to me.
I mean, if there's any sort of Zen in this world that I can understand and accept - it's that you only ever get one flavor packet with your ramen. You might want more, you might feel that you somehow need more... but you only ever get one.
Yet, here I am
As the burner shifts towards red and the water reacts, there's a sound like wind running through high tree branches. It's the sort of thing you notice when you're outside trying to think - only the thoughts won't come.
Absently waiting for the water to boiI, I open the package. Inside the plastic, hugging the noodles like remora, are not one - but two silvery packets.
In all the years I've eaten this, in all the time that I've cooked these things up the wrong way, this has never happened to me.
I mean, if there's any sort of Zen in this world that I can understand and accept - it's that you only ever get one flavor packet with your ramen. You might want more, you might feel that you somehow need more... but you only ever get one.
Yet, here I am
- With two.