‘Give me a cigarette.’ ‘You don’t smoke.’ ‘Just give me a fucking cigarette.’ Tippi sat beside me and offered me her pack, I took one an... she lit it. I didn’t cough, just inhaled like I used to all those years ago. She put the pack on the seat beside me and left her lighter there between us. ‘Your mascara has run.’ I said nothing. ‘Want to tell me?’ I remained silent. Tippi stood, patted my hand and said, ‘Come back inside when you’re feeling better.’ I knew I’d never feel better. She turned to. As we strolled from the market, I, in turn, snuggled her arm against me in that manner. She seemed not to notice the reversal, chatting as we were about the impossibilities of upcoming examinations, but when we stopped for ices, her arm continued to pass over me without my motion. I’d have died of embarrassment had I thought she could feel my excitement, but my bra was Indian.But when we bid adieu at the bus stop, I doubted she’d even had awareness where our arms had wandered.Not much. More

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