Goodbye, My Love

Loraine sighed and guided him in the opposite direction.

“Let me take you around the local market.”

Upon reaching the market, Marco found himself immersed in a completely different experience.

It was his inaugural visit to such a locale. Compared to the bustling streets brimming with food vendors he was familiar with, the market seemed even more chaotic and vibrant, with a blend of diverse aromas leaving him momentarily flustered.

Luckily, Loraine swiftly grabbed his hand and admonished, “Stay close, don’t get lost.”

Gradually, Marco relaxed as he shadowed her through the vegetable stalls, meat vendors, and bustling crowd.

The busy and vibrant atmosphere of the market allowed them to walk closely together. Unable to hold back his curiosity, Marco queried,

“Did you design this too?”

Loraine chuckled and replied, “Not at all. The market has been here for ages, possessing a rich history. It offers an extensive variety of goods, and you can find just about anything here at an affordable price.” All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Marco instantly adopted an attentive demeanor, ready to Learn.

As they meandered through the market, Loraine adeptly picked out items from various stalls. They would pause occasionally to peruse goods, and as they passed a meat vendor, Loraine had no intention of stopping.

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However, the rotund butcher, spotting them, eagerly approached to draw their attention.

Their attire was conspicuously distinct from that of the regular market-goers, signaling they were here for a taste of a different lifestyle. The butcher’s eyes Lit up, envisioning a potential windfall.

Intrigued, Marco glanced in his direction, and Loraine deemed it the right moment to pause.

The butcher beamed, his tobacco-stained teeth on full display, and offered, “Take a look at my meat. It’s the freshest in the whole market. Are you newlyweds who’ve just embarked on Living independently?

My meat would be an excellent choice for you!”

Loraine assessed the meat he was touting, noting its lackluster hue, a sign of prolonged storage. She bypassed his sales spiel and instead pointed to a different cut, gesturing the butcher to slice it for her.

The butcher was taken aback. He had pegged Loraine as a clueless young individual, oblivious to the nuances of choosing meat. However, she had picked the most fresh and superior cut.

Could it be… a fluke?

He shrugged off the thought and proceeded to weigh the meat, package it, and hand it over, stating, “Exactly two pounds, here you go!”

As Loraine accepted the bag and verified its weight, she sensed something was amiss. She eyed the butcher’s scale and smirked, asserting, “Sir, it appears your scale is faulty.”

Feigning astonishment, the butcher responded, “Miss, how could you suggest such a thing? I’m an upright tradesman. My scale is precise. I never swindle my patrons.”

Loraine’s expression remained frosty as she pointed to the bag of potatoes Marco was holding, purchased from a nearby stand.