It was a slow, hot day in the shop. Bec and Feisty waited for customers. She was used to it; he was out of his mind with boredom.

Bec wandered to the street display and retrieved the belt basket, which was almost empty. Feisty looked in and spotted a dozen spare keepers. He pushed two onto his fingers. The leather was dark and fragrant, crossed with stout twine stitches bitten, no doubt, by some impoverished piece worker.

'Cool loops,' enthused Feisty, who was very easily amused.

'Yeah.'

'Why'd they send us so many spares?'

'Dunno.'

'Hmmm.'

To Feisty, everything had a message - sometimes obvious, often oblique. The best were those he invented: 'omens of the highest order'. He resolved to divine the message of the spare leather loops.

'I'm going to divine the message of these spare loops, OK Bec?'

'Go for it.'

The toilet was even hotter than the shop. Tripping an angry dispersal of fat blowflies, Feisty dropped his jeans and sat in the oppressive fug. Perspiration dribbled down his back. A zephyr checked itself at the window.

Why send spares? Those poor buggers only make eight cents a day. Quality control? Sabotage? The desire to create an illusion of prosperity in the minds of Westerners. Now there's a theory!

'Additional loops? Of course Sahib, we have many, many loops; a veritable cornucopia of leather fragments for your utility and pleasure. Here, take some! Take 12! And go with God...'

Feisty daydreamed until, too soon, it was time to return to work. He'd determined the reason for the loops' arrival. Now, how best to employ them?

To be continued...