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Meera laughed. “I ate a full meal two hours ago, Amma.”

As the family sat down to eat, Amma served everyone with her own hands. She piled an extra spoonful of ghee on Meera’s rice. “You look thin,” she said. shot designer crack windows

On the walk back, they stopped at Sharma Kirana Store. The shopkeeper, a man with a ledger older than Meera, pulled out a brown paper packet. “For your father,” he said. “And tell Amma, the new batch of aam papad (mango leather) is here. Very sweet.” Meera laughed

“It’s called dinner, Amma,” Meera mumbled, pouring herself a glass of water from the matka—the clay pot that kept the water tasting like cool earth. “You look thin,” she said

Her phone buzzed. A message from her mother. “Dad’s BP medicine is over. Pick it up from the kirana store on your way back from the temple? Don’t forget, it’s Mangalvar .”

“Don't work too hard,” he said. “We are here if you need anything.”