☀️ The Morning With Sand

Amma was sweeping the veranda.
The sound was soft, like sand scratching a drum.

Mukshi tied his shoes quietly.
Daksh blinked once, then again.

“That means we’re not late,” Mukshi said.
Daksh blinked again. That meant yes.

Amma handed him the bag.
“Don’t collect anything shiny,” she said.

---

🚲 The Man by the Gate

Near the narrow turn, Mukshi saw someone.
A man—thin, sitting beside a small blue cart.

Daksh flew lower, wings still.

“Morning,” the man said.

Mukshi slowed his cycle.

“Your bird doesn’t fly away?”

“No,” Mukshi said. “He knows the way back.”

The man smiled. “Lucky.”

---

🪙 The Coin in the Sand

Past the cart, just under a patch of dry leaves—something.

Mukshi stopped. He brushed the leaves.
A small silver coin. A rupee.

“Someone dropped it,” he said.

Daksh blinked once. That meant: Probably.

---

🧓 A Simple Ask

The man was still sitting by the gate.

Mukshi turned back.
“Did you lose a coin?” he asked.

The man looked surprised. Then laughed.

“No,” he said. “But I’ve dropped many before.”

Mukshi held out the coin anyway.

The man looked at him.
“You could’ve kept it.”

“I know.”

“But you came back.”

Mukshi nodded. “It didn’t feel like mine.”

---

🏡 Amma and the Shirt

Amma was folding Appa’s shirt again.

“You didn’t bring back anything shiny?” she asked.

“I found a coin,” Mukshi said.

She looked up. “Where is it?”

“I gave it back. It wasn’t mine.”

Amma didn’t speak for a moment.
Then nodded. “Still worth something.”

---

Being truthful doesn’t always leave your hands full.
But it keeps your pockets light.