A Hundred and Seven

The urchin flashed his 5, and called, Pani Puri!

The hawker eyed him stand with the women who self-consciously popped whole puris in.

Five down. They wiped their mouths. Pink hankies. Filthy sleeve.

Five Rupees.

The urchin hovered.

The hawker looked, tsked, and threw the coin back at him.

Who has use for two tails?

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