** Needs editing Half of the jaanta alighted at Marathali. There are just few men here and there. Each one waiting for their destination. Its a old rickety bus,the engine sound drowning every sound in its vicinity. The conductor is lurking around the front door. She had just made herself comfortable when suddenly a figure clad in yellowish salwaar kameez seats herself next to Anusha. Its a tiny seat, sharing one meant that they were tight on space. She doesn't complain, its a bus one can sit where one wishes too. As the bus sways, Anusha feels a movement right at her elbow, she looks down, the girl is pushing her hand . Few seconds later, there is a push again! its not gentle, its not harsh, but something about the touch is not right.At very imaginary and unimaginary brush there seemed to be push which followed with the girl rubbing her skin, ...
