She stares idly into the distance, an empty ceramic tumbler in front of her. “The beach there is different…in my country.” She says, lost in the reverie of the waves. Did she say bitch to me? No, No, it’s the beach, the beach of Mexico. I remind myself of the Mexican Spanish accent. People’s vowels and consonants, my own diction, is my Achilles heel even after years of mac and cheese. Why would she call her life coach a bitch? Calming my heart, I try to concentrate. Usually, I am the focussed type; I can come to the point quickly. As a seasoned counselor, I can anticipate the story which has got the weary heart to my doorsteps in the first five minutes. To read the full story- Click on - The Part-Time Indian on Kitaab International. Image courtesy-Pixabay.