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Weekly Contest #342
Naima let the oil heat up on her cast-iron skillet slowly. The rustic stovetop grew old with a charred cast but withstood the test of time over the last three decades in their small, ageless apartment. She’d gotten accustomed to it, and was just content that Pintu had remembered to pick up the correct oil this time. Over the last thirty years of their marriage, he always seemed to have misplaced or picked up the wrong item whenever she called during his daily outings. Canola oil instead of mustard oil, white bread instead of brown, and Lipto...
Weekly Contest #341
The corner of Fulton Street was always busy- clamoring with a stampede of New Yorkers exiting the G train station situated at the corner. There were always honking cars deadlocked on Main Street, and a clerk in a kiosk that appeared to never have a deficit of customers. Fahim approached the corner on his way to grab his usual coffee and bagel combo, when he stopped- feet skidding the sidewalk pavement. A woman stood in line, one he couldn’t ignore from a hundred and fifty feet away. He’d recognize her anywhere- the same olive green headscarf...
Weekly Contest #339
The office clamored with sounds of keyboards clattering and chatter. Fahim sat upright working on the latest analysis. In between his rigorous typing, he sipped coffee from his insulated mug. His coworker, Eric, approached him.“Morning Fahim! Is that the new Colombian roast in the office pantry?” he asked energetically.“Just a regular dark roast, milk and sugar,” Fahim replied reservedly.“Nice! Those always get me through the morning briefings. I’m trying a new Chai Tea Latte today. It has a kick to it,” he regaled.Fahim chuckled, looking aw...
Weekly Contest #338
Fahim sank further into his seat, in a classroom with fellow STEM majors sitting upright and diligently taking notes. He doodled drawings on the margins of his notes, away from the disarray of calculus equations on limits and derivatives. His professor turned towards the board and wrote a problem describing a function as the limit approached zero. He tapped the zero twice with the chalk. “Now– this part matters,” he says. “When we say as x approaches zero, we’re not asking what happens when x is at zero. That’s a different question entirely...
Weekly Contest #334
Kajol scraped the last smear of molasses from the pot, the wooden spoon warm from the stove. He rinsed the remaining sticky, brown filling and packed the rest of the peethas into tupperware. The sticky rice cakes were steamed with the molasses coating the insides, bleeding into brown leopard spots on the outsides. He packed away the peethas carefully, to avoid them cramming and sticking to each other. He was too proud of his work to let them crumble or turn stale overnight. The peethas were fired over a large, wood-fire oven. Kajol removed t...
Weekly Contest #333
Brown the onions, and don’t fry them like last time.Fahim stirred the cubes of onion, watching them slowly take on the warm brown hue his mother always insisted on. Behind him, his phone buzzed– unanswered– as messages poured in:Fahim, are you coming today?No hear from you in long time.Come soon. I know you have off today.Suraiya was sharp– she always remembered his schedule, even when he hadn’t responded in weeks. He did plan to visit today, just later than usual. And he’d never show up empty-handed; that would break one of the first tenets...
Weekly Contest #332
Don’t forget to defrost the meat.Last time you set it out too late.Make sure you wake up early and do it this time.Samira repeated the instructions to herself, burning them to memory. It seemed like a simple task, but it could very well be the only thing standing between her and the Weeknd concert this Saturday night. She had bought the tickets months ago– planned carefully, saved diligently– but no early-bird discount came close to appeasing her mother.Hamida kept a tight grip on her daughter. Praise was rare. Approval, even rarer.Samira pu...
Weekly Contest #331
“Where are we going?” Nusrat questioned, her voice groggy with sleep and curiosity. “Just a few more steps,” Rafiq reassured while covering her eyes from behind. He guided her slowly through their narrow kitchen, barefoot across the linoleum kitchen floor until they stopped by the window perched behind the sink. A sudden, wintery breeze slipped in as he cracked it open. The cold wind slapped her face, she flinched. “Surprise,” Rafiq said, parting the blinds. Nusrat peered into the silvery night. Snow blanketed the window guard in powdery lay...
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