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The Burning

        She didn’t want to measure out a pound, just prodded around until she felt she had enough firm potatoes. They would only be for her and Lai, anyway. Lai was usually meandering through the internet at this hour, though whether he was catching up on the day’s news or giggling at memes she wasn’t sure. He didn’t come out of the office as she set a pot of water to boil. She cut each potato in half first, inspecting for black blooms within the flesh. She didn’t trust the recipe, that potatoes would cook sufficiently in hot frying oil if not boiled first. The texture came out mealy, like mashed potatoes, instead of the fine shreds of real latkes. She called them fritters.

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