But the microphone picked up a different sound: the aggressive thwack-thwack of Aai rolling the dough, followed by Aai yelling, “ ”
Then she saw her boss, from Seattle, standing awkwardly by the snack table, holding a samosa like it was a foreign artifact. But the microphone picked up a different sound:
“Aai,” Riya said. “Why do we do this every evening?” followed by Aai yelling