‘So what you’re saying is that the caterpillar served eventually to cast your life into great ruin.’
‘I won’t disagree with that. But don’t think it’s my thesis. I’m no spokeswoman.’
‘Then I guess I’m not sure I fully grasp your point. You’ll have to be less cryptic, for now. Keep me in the loop.’
‘This isn’t a vendetta. It’s not a smear campaign.’
‘I thought this was supposed to be all about the caterpillar.’
‘It is, in a way. But in a way it’s about the big questions. What are you, to me? How did we come to be what we are? Will our minds ever fully transcend our bodies?’

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Sumanth Prabhaker’s A Mere Pittance transcribes a long telephone conversation between a young woman stranded in India and her older boss and partner across the world. As she relates to him the story of a metaphysical experience she endured, trapped beneath a fallen armoire in a strange hotel, their relationship becomes a creature all its own, beyond their control. And as it moves, they speak only to the traveling voice of each other, driven by the possibility of connecting wires, and the melancholy of inhabiting a body.