The dew made my eyes water, glistening off the Asters like that. An alluring November nostalgia noses about a Fair in the fall. The smell of diesel from trucks transporting the roller coaster rails zinged up my nose: my knees buckled a bit from the fumes.
Akaash and Bharat, a sweet couple I knew from the art shop, ex pats from Delhi, had planned to meet me by the animal balloon stall at noon. The phone rang just as I’d triple wrapped the carefully chosen purple paisley scarf and was on my way out the door.
“Gemma, we are so sorry. Bharat has come down with a fever. I hope we haven’t ruined your day."
”No, it’s fine, Akaash. I’ll miss your company, but I’ve been to the fair alone before. I’m not shy that way. Tell Bharat I hope he feels...
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