…my kitchen was as busy as the famous ‘pho’ stall on the street. I could smell the chicken broth with it’s fume gliding against the cupboard and into the exhaust fan. While am waiting for the tinola to cook, I polished the floor and did the dishes, ninja style. Then, I had a little sip of the broth after it boils. Perfect, I said, and felt my stomach growl. I hope she will like it.