I Burned the Garlic While Thinking About Money

Dear Delyara, I had only turned away for a moment. Just one moment to stand at the counter with my phone open, doing the quiet arithmetic women do around bills, food, timing, and whether the week is going to stretch or tear. By the time I came back to the pan, the garlic had already gone bitter. That felt symbolic in a way I instantly resented. Money reaching into dinner. Fear entering flavour. One practical concern contaminating one ordinary meal before the meal had even become itself. I scraped the pan out and started again. Still, I stayed angry for longer than burnt garlic deserved. Because when financial worry becomes constant enough, it doesn’t only live in the bank account. It cooks with you. Sleeps beside you. Drives with you. Stands in the kitchen while you ruin dinner and try not to cry over something that is not really about garlic at all.