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"Raj is still alive?" she asked.
The rain was a sheet of silver over the narrow lanes of Goa, but Veer Bakshi didn’t feel it. He stood outside a crumbling garage called "Mechanic Stan," the name faded on the tin sign. Inside, a woman in a paint-stained overalls was arguing with a carburetor.
It was her. Meera. Fifteen years hadn't changed the fire in her eyes, though the laughter lines had deepened.