“Make sure you keep stirring it, so it doesn’t boil over” his mother
told him as she left the room.
He looked after her in teenaged disgust. He knew what he was doing.
He stirred the pot for a long time. At least 10 minutes. For sure over a
minute. Long enough that he knew he could get his phone right quick.
He went to his bedroom, picked up his phone, and replied to some
messages. It only took a second.
There was a cascade of bubbles coming from the kitchen, and his mother’s
eyes glared at him over them.
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