The city was still stretching awake when they stepped out together, the air cool and clean in that brief window before noise took over. Rita walked a half step ahead, confident as always, her tote folded neatly over one shoulder. Faro followed, hands in his pockets, already smiling like he knew the day would be longer than planned and better for it.
They stopped at a small street café tucked between brick buildings. Chairs scraped softly on pavement. A barista yawned behind the counter. Rita ordered coffee without looking at the menu, the way people do when a place already belongs to them. Faro leaned back against a post, watching pedestrians drift past in ones and twos. He made a quiet comment about how everyone looked like they were late for something important. Rita laughed into her cup. The day hadn’t even begun, and already it felt unhurried.
By the time they reached the market, stalls were unfolding like pages in a book. Canvas awnings lifted, crates thumped onto tables, and the smell of fruit and herbs thickened the air. Rita slowed near a flower stand, fingers brushing the stems before she lifted a bouquet and closed her eyes. She breathed it in, soft and private, as if the scent belonged to a memory rather than the morning. Faro didn’t say anything. He simply paid the vendor and handed her a smaller bunch when she turned back. She looked at him for a moment, surprised, then tucked the flowers into her tote.
A vendor farther down recognized her and greeted her with easy familiarity, leaning in with a grin that was practiced but harmless. Rita played along, amused, while Faro crossed his arms and adopted an exaggerated look of offense. The vendor laughed. Rita laughed harder, nudging Faro with her elbow as they moved on. The moment passed as quickly as it arrived, leaving behind nothing but warmth.
At a fruit stall, the vendor offered samples on the tip of a knife. Rita tasted one, nodded approvingly, then held a slice up to Faro’s mouth. He hesitated, suspicious, then bit down and immediately made a face. Rita watched him with delight. She teased him gently, and he swallowed his pride along with the fruit. The vendor smiled at them both, already turning to the next customer.
They found shade beneath a tree at the edge of the market and sat for a while without speaking. Rita stared out at the moving crowd, her voice softer when she finally spoke. Markets, she said, always reminded her of earlier days in Thundarr City, when everything felt closer together, when people knew each other’s names. Faro listened without interrupting, the way he always did when she drifted into memory. When she finished, she exhaled and smiled as if setting the past back where it belonged.
Music carried toward them from somewhere nearby. A street musician played beneath another tree, his guitar case open at his feet. Rita swayed slightly where she stood, barely noticeable unless you were watching for it. Faro tapped his fingers against his leg, keeping time. Neither of them spoke. The music filled the space between them and then faded as they walked on.
The tote grew heavier as the hours passed. Greens, fruit, bread, flowers—small things adding up. Faro reached for the bag, insisting it was his turn. Rita refused, tightening her grip. They stopped in the middle of the path, smiling at each other as if this argument had happened many times before. In the end, they compromised, each taking one handle. They walked on like that, shoulders close, the weight shared evenly.
By the time hunger caught up with them, the market had thinned. They sat at an outdoor table and ordered something simple. Fries arrived in a heap between them, and Faro fed one to Rita, watching her bite down with exaggerated care. Later, she returned the favor, wiping sauce from her fingers with a laugh. The city moved around them, but their corner of it felt briefly suspended.
When they stood again, the pace slowed. Rita slipped her arm through Faro’s, and they walked without destination, letting the crowd dissolve into distance. Leaves rustled overhead. Footsteps echoed softly on stone.
At the bus stop, they stood side by side. Rita leaned into Faro’s shoulder, tired now, content in the way that comes only after a full day. The tote rested at their feet. A bus hummed somewhere down the street, lights flickering closer. Faro didn’t move. He simply tilted his head slightly, making room for her. The city continued its steady rhythm around them, and they waited, calm at last.