"Papa, why is your phone buzzing so much?" Atharv asked, suspicious eyes narrowing behind his milk glass. "Are you playing that spy game again?"
Srikant looked at the target, who was currently handing over a suspicious briefcase fifty yards away. Then he looked at the time. "Is it the one with the volcanic eruption?" he whispered. "Yes! Please!"
"It’s the Filing and Records Department, Atharv. Excitement is illegal there," Srikant lied smoothly, grabbing his briefcase. He kissed Suchitra on the cheek—avoiding her questioning gaze about why he was wearing his "sturdy" shoes for a desk job—and bolted out the door.
