Fried Potatoes

It is almost midnight and she is cooking fried potatoes. She often fries potatoes when there is a need for comfort, as if she was at home, though she doesn’t really know where her home is. Potatoes, on the other hand, are always there, and she finds their constant presence reassuring. 

She peels and cuts them into tiny pieces and puts them on a stove with oil already heated, exactly as her mom did when she was a child. Back then they would need ten to twelve potatoes to feed everybody, and now she only needs one or two. 

After ten minutes or so, it is ready. 

The fried potatoes from her childhood always taste the same: there is some sweetness in them with a bit of salt and pepper.