pity the fool

Mukul insisted. He wanted Shriram to sit and watch the goods while he washed his feet in the grimy puddles nestled among the rocks that separated them from the vast sea.

"I'll only be a minute," he left; his flipflops marching on in his wake.

Shriram craned his neck to watch where Mukul ventured while watching the goods with his peripheral vision. The murder of crows circled above Shriram. He was fidgety. A couple of kids nearby appeared to nonchalantly document his every move.

The crows came closer. He clutched the blue plastic cover tightly; he was a stark contrast to the serene scene around him.

Mukul was now relieving himself; Shriram himself was close to a physical breakdown. The phantom fear was completely holding him captive. A sudden breeze and he was convinced the elements had conspired to bare his deepest, darkest secret.

He turned around to see the same 2; the girl was drawing furiously while the boy threw another shifty glance before he dove back into his notebook.

Shriram looked back and found Mukul staring at him point blank.

"Fool! Crows like fish. Didn't I tell you to watch the goods?"