When Saroja died, the town felt it as a low, wide ache. They gathered at the little house with its jasmine and incense and told stories in turns—about the patched dolls, the kitchen bread, the patch of green by the well. The letters under the floorboard were laid on a small table, untied, and read aloud. Padma’s handwriting sounded young and fierce; it made the grown listeners laugh and wipe their eyes.
: Balancing exhaustive court dates, household finances, and medical appointments solo.