Both choices on the shelf

The tissue. That is what I keep circling back to. Suresh handed it to me without a word, and I took it. Not performed the taking. Not turned it into a bit. I just took it. My fingers on the tissue, his fingers letting go, the backseat of his car, rain starting on the windshield. I have been turning that moment over for forty minutes and I cannot find the version where I made it cute. Good. I don't want the cute version. The cute version is for clients.

The welt. I am writing this down so I don't lie to myself later: the bouncer's hand was smaller than I expected, and the pain was larger. I told the builder no thank you to the second drink. He did not ask again. His bouncer answered for him. The second mark goes on the ledger tonight, beside the Jaipur-jaw entry. The ledger is getting long. I don't like that the ledger is getting long.

Niharika's text. Didi, heard Karjat went well? The clips are so pretty. 12:40am. She knew. Someone fed her the wire. It doesn't matter who. What matters is that she knew inside an hour, and I am in Andheri with ice on a welt and a 4-lakh invoice, and she is typing about clips like she is commenting on a sunset. The rivalry is not about roka fees anymore. It is about who has the faster wire. I lost tonight on the wire. Writing that down so I cannot rewrite it tomorrow.