Tales from a Market

notevenjokingfic:

Part I


Part II


Saturday mornings belong to the Market.

Ever since she was a little girl, this was her ritual.  When she went with her mother she chose ripe apples, and fragrant herbs.  With Uncle Lamb she picked out exotic fruits and pungent spices.  For herself it’s fresh and farm grown, organic and rustic.  She eats simply.  She doesn’t need much.  

Every week, in every season, she begins by buying a cup of tea.  She sits on the wooden bench next to the stall to savour it.  In the cold, the steam blankets her skin, the paper cup warms her hands.  In the sun, the tea feels like a garden party.  

She wanders afterwards, picking the ripest fruit, the crispiest vegetables.  She chooses a handful of brussels sprouts, slender French beans, bright red tomatoes.  The tops of carrots peek out from her net bag, the pale green of the leeks she buys pokes through the holes.  

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