Saturday, 16 June 2018

‘The Salesman’ by Hema Nataraju

"Ten rupees for this bouquet, didi. It's just as pretty as you.” A little hand, grimy and callused, knocked on the car window.

“I know you get flowers from the cemetery.” I put my sunglasses back on.

“But didi, what will the dead do with flowers?” The diamonds in his eyes twinkled.

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