The heat for early August was uncomfortable. The air in Suntra would have begun to cool by now, mid-day had struck, Clara was thankful to have been given the hangover remedies. Whatever was left in her system from last night she’d most likely have sweated out. Atticus knelt in the neat, endless rows of ground vegetables. He pulled at the leaves inspecting the goods hidden below the soil. He rubs the produce and checks the dirt between his fingers and thumb. “These look ready to go. Very healthy too, this year looks good for harvesting” Clara watches Atticus. A glimmer behind her eyes, watching him bury himself in what was apparent, he enjoyed. There was an excitement in him, and satisfaction seeped from all his pores.
“What is it that you’re doing? And how do you know that just from what
