Approaching the apartment door tonight I smelled it.
Really thick smoke.
I opened up the door. Good Man sheepishly walked out of the kitchen.
“Um, we had a little fire,” he answered.
Every window and porch door in the house was open. The fans were running. The smoke detector was unplugged.
“Is everything OK? Are you OK?”
“Yes,” Good Man said, “I tried to make a [vegetable] bun in the microwave and it caught fire.”
I poked at the microwave. “This caught fire? Is it broken?”
“No, just…I took out the bun and whoosh!” Good Man moved his hands in a flame motion, then pointed to the trash, “It’s in there.” He started scrubbing the microwave.
“OK, well, don’t worry about cleaning the microwave. If it’s burnt, it’s burnt. No big deal. How long was it in there?”
“Um,” Good Man thought for a second, “four minutes?”
“Four minutes?” I opened up the freezer, pulled out the package, and started reading. The package comes in both English and Korean.
“30 to 50 seconds. Here, I’ll read it in Korean. 30초간…50초간!”
Good Man grinned, “사랑해!”