The Egg Boiling Championship

It was my tenth year at the egg boiling championship, and I was determined to take home the golden saucepan. I had focused on the basics, of course: estimating weight by feel and volume by eye, and finding ways to count time that didn't depend on keeping a steady pulse under pressure. But this time I had let my instincts grow, too, setting the perfect creamy yolk without thinking about it at all. When the day came, I boiled them perfectly. I knew it before they cracked. But they were rotten, every one. I never thought to check.