The Morning Market

Before the town fully wakes, I find the market being set up in the square. Crates are being unloaded, stalls are unfolding like flowers, and the scent of bread is already in the air.

I buy a handful of warm apricots and a cup of mint tea. I sit by a stone fountain, watching the bustle grow.

A vendor arranging bundles of thyme catches my eye. “Best time of day,” he says. “Before people get busy with their thoughts.”

He’s right.

In the cool of the morning, the world hasn’t rushed ahead yet. It remains soft, unformed, waiting.

I finish my tea slowly. For now, there is nowhere to go.