When I saw Namita first, she was clearly nervous. She had a wary, vacant expression in her eyes, but she kept clenching her fists. Many people who come for Readings are naturally a little flustered, so I moved on from her manners to hearing what she wanted to tell me. But her ordinary story moved me. She was at a crossroads, she said, and slowly tried to tell me everything that was in her mind. It was not easy for her to do that, and the narration I received was broken. Yet,