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Every Saturday, the old parking lot turned into a weekend market.
Lina and her cousin Marco arrived early, carrying cloth bags.
At the first stall, a farmer offered slices of sweet peach.
Next, a baker sold warm bread and small tarts with lemon cream.
A woman at a spice table let them smell jars of cinnamon and cardamom.
“Try this tea,” she said, pouring a small cup.
The market map showed music at noon, so they circled the stage area.
A guitarist was tuning his instrument near a row of food trucks.
Lina wanted to buy flowers but didn’t know which kind.
The florist asked, “What is the gift for?”
“A friend’s new job,” Lina said. “Something bright.”
The florist made a small bouquet with orange and yellow flowers.
They sat on a bench, shared a tart, and watched a family dance to the music.
On their way out, a volunteer gave them a flyer with next month’s dates and a coupon.
The bags felt heavy by the end, but the afternoon felt light.
