I've come to one of the few coffee shops in town in search of a decent wifi signal. Upon choosing a table outside I am immediately joined by a very small little girl dressed in patterned fleece leggings, jean jacket with sequined strawberries, fuzzy red boots and a high pony tail atop her head. (Of course I didn't bring my camera.) Her tiny teeth are rotting in her mouth and neither her Ama or her Auntie are anywhere to be found. Her brown hands are wrinkly and dry, like those of an old dwarf farm worker. I've managed to gather that her name is Nisha. We're playing a hilarious game of ducking under the table and squealing as we pop up. After she spilled my cappuccino I taught her to say "coffee is good." I tried to entertain her with markers and paper to draw on but she is much more enthusiastic about stirring my coffee, licking the spoon and trying to stick it back in my cup. She did finally managed to dunk the contaminated spoon with only a sip left. I drank it anyway and she tried the last few drops making a face that expressed serious doubt in my beverage tastes. Two ladies at the table next to us just ordered her a brownie (after I offered her a handful of cashews and she threw them at me) and with no further ado she ran away. Later, I spotted her running hand in hand through the parked cars with the parking attendant.
