Half a head of cabbage, sliced thin, into a hot dry-ish pan — and don't touch it. Two minutes. Let it char. Garlic, cold day-old rice, soy, butter. Push it aside, scramble four eggs in the bare space, fold it in.

Feeds four. Ten minutes. Five dollars. Cabbage outlasts every empire because it keeps a month and turns sweet the instant it meets heat.

"Those moments are cumulative realities." — Marsha P. Johnson

Nobody in your house needs to know the week was hard.