For Eunice and Vijay

For Eunice and Vijay

    I. All this whining after the passing is like cigarette smoke. Coiling up. Eunice would puff away at it, askance; her questions tightly grabbing at shirt corners, a little determined to be sly. The neighbors are frying jalebi to eat with curdled cream. Bloody brown sahibs. Don't you know, we're good at pretense…