Soup for a Friend

On Saturday morning, Tomás received a message saying that his friend Gabi had been ill since Thursday. She had a fever and had not eaten anything proper for two days, so he decided to make her some soup, the way his grandmother used to.

When he opened the fridge, he found some onions, a few carrots and some potatoes, along with what was left of a roast chicken. The problem was that he had run out of salt, and the only bread in the flat was a stale end of a loaf.

He went next door, hoping that Mrs Ruiz, who spent most of her weekends in the garden, could help. “Of course,” she said, handing him some salt. “And take some of this bread. I baked it this morning, so it should still be warm.”

Back in the kitchen, he chopped the vegetables, put them in a large pot with some water and let everything simmer for half an hour. By the time he added the chicken and some salt, the whole building smelled of home cooking.

Gabi was too weak to say much, but she managed a smile when she saw the pot wrapped in a towel. After a few spoonfuls, she asked whether there was some more. “There is plenty at home,” Tomás said. “I’ll bring you some tomorrow, as long as you rest.”