The wispy shrub grew without too much fuss. Shy plant, Shame Plant, the Touch-Me-Not. Many names, for the same little fern who withdrew from the slightest touch. A soft breeze, a sudden movement - all of these made the plant fold inward. All it wanted - a handful of soil and a quiet corner of the land. In the early hours of a March dawn, Kalambhai stretched his burly arms and sniffed the air. Might rain today. The Tv predicted Thunderstorms for the entire state. He hoped that wouldn’t mess with the travel time. His clients were rich Europeans, and a bad review from them would not help his fledgling business. News traveled fast in their circles, and he always had goods to move. Almost time. Lajwanti should be ready with the lorry. Kalambhai was an atheist, but having a woman in his line of work? An absolute Godsend. Of course, she was ugly as sin, but he didn’t employ her for her looks now, did he? As he marched toward the large barn, he could see the gray blue fumes of the lorry
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