[Velle enters a new Indian/Pakistani/Bangladeshi grocery shop. She admires the shelf of Masala flavoured Maggi Noodles, before turning to the nice Indian shop assistant hovering beside her.]

Well-meaning man: Can I help you with anything?

Velle: Actually, yeah. I’m wondering if you sell any fish curry to have with prata.

[Well-meaning man takes her to the first row, back shelf and points to the bottles of curry pastes.]

Well-meaning man: (Apologetically) We have mostly vegetarian options only. I do not know what the fish curries taste like. I am vegetarian.

Velle: Oh, that’s alright. I’ll have a look.

Well-meaning man: Can I suggest that you use these (points to dried spices) rather than the pastes? It’s safer. Especially in your… condition.

[Looks pointedly at Velle’s belly. Velle looks down at her own belly.]

Velle: Oh, this? I’m just fat.

[Well-meaning man looks like he accidentally sold his own mother to a slave merchant at last night’s poker game.]

Velle: I’m kidding.

Tony claims I was being evil. But he was laughing when he said it, so I don’t think I was being that evil. The Well-Meaning Man was laughing too – after he cottoned on. Because laughing is infinitely less frowned upon than strangling a pregnant woman for giving him that awful cold, wet, sinking feeling…

I have no idea why I did that. But I think I owe that guy at least a packet of masala-flavoured maggi noodles. At least.

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