Eventually, only Sara remained.
The old woman hesitated.
"What if he doesn't kick for me?"
"He will," Alankrita said softly.
Sara slowly placed her wrinkled hand against the cotton fabric.
For several seconds nothing happened.
Then,
thump.
A small kick.
Gentle.
Perfectly timed.
Sara laughed and cried at the same time.
The knitting needle she was holding almost fell from her hand.
"Such manners."
The room burst into laughter.
"He waited his turn."
Alankrita laughed so hard that tears appeared in her eyes.